


Letting Sleeping Dragons Lie

by MissSuzeH



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Feet, Fluff and Smut, Masturbation, Porn With Plot, Post-Hogwarts, School Uniforms, Shower Sex, Underwear, foot fetish kind of, making new friends, old enemies, porn with just a little bit of plot, post hogwarts kind of, return to school, slight kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-04-02 12:36:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 119,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4060255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSuzeH/pseuds/MissSuzeH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The decision to come back to the now completely restored Hogwarts, had not been an easy one to make. She had thought long and hard before concluding that even without Harry and Ron, returning to her former school to finish her exams was indeed the right thing to do.......wans't it. Encountering Lucius Malfoy and striking a deal with Draco might change that.</p><p>Lucius & Hermione fic, in which Snape didn't die. I hope you enjoy. Apologies as always for any mistakes of any kind.<br/>Comments and constructive criticism always welcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

**Author's Note:**

> Hermione's first day back at Hogwarts how will it go...............

_The decision to come back to the now completely restored Hogwarts, had not been an easy one to make. She had thought long and hard before concluding that even without Harry and Ron, returning to her former school to finish her exams was indeed the right thing to do._

                                                                                * * * * * * * * * *

Hermione Granger tugged on the hem of her grey woollen skirt. It couldn’t have shrunk since she left her room, that was just silly, but for some reason it now felt ridiculously short beneath her long Gryffindor robe. At almost twenty, wearing a school uniform made her feel more like the star of a pornographic film, than a pupil, and she squirmed uncomfortably. Hermione straightened her scarlet and gold tie, for the umpteenth time and ran a somewhat useless hand over her still rather unruly mass of hair.   It was nowhere near as wild as it had been when she was a child, but the products to keep it in check still took up most of the space in her bathroom.

 

Hermione could hear voices coming from within Minerva McGonagall’s office. One female, obviously the headmistress herself, the other was male, probably one of the other Professors, its identity muffled by the heavy wooden door.

 

As the headmistress called for her to enter, the wisdom of her decision to return suddenly eluded her. A strange sense of apprehension creeping up her spine and a distinct chill caressing her skin. Hermione’s stomach churned, she hadn’t felt this nervous at school since the then, Professor McGonagall had placed the sorting hat on her precocious 11 year old head.

 

Entering the room fully Hermione found herself unexpectedly in the embrace of the older witch, her emerald green robes engulfing her in a comforting warmth.

 “I am delighted you decided to come back.” The headmistress wise blue eyes sparkled with tears as she spoke, finally releasing Hermione from an almost bear like hug.

 

Hermione took a small step backwards, smiling fondly at her former head of house. Her nerves gradually settling, she cast a cursory glance around the cluttered, almost homely office. Her eyes finally falling upon the owner of the second voice:  Warm brown locked with piercing grey.

 

“Miss Granger, what a pleasure to see you again and looking so………… grown up.”

 

Hermione’s faced flushed, she felt the heat spreading slowly from her cheeks, creeping down the slim column of her throat. She resisted the urge to fiddle yet further with her tie, even though it now felt as if were strangling her. Under the penetrative and deliberately slow assessment, heat continued to suffuse her entire body, feeling sure the red glow would be visible through her pristine white shirt, Hermione willed her arms to remain at her side. In the presence of her Headmistress she bit back the retort that sat on the tip of her tongue. Finding her own gaze however just as unhurried, and dare she admit appreciative, as that of Lucius Malfoy, as she took in his imposing presence.  The twinkle in his slate grey eyes, the quizzically raised dark blonde brow, and the ever so slight twitch of his lips, alerted her to the fact, that her own somewhat inappropriate appraisal, had not gone unnoticed by the formidable dark wizard. 

 

If Minerva McGonagall noticed any tension of any kind in the room she said nothing. Turning her attention once more back to the tall blonde man.

“Lucius are you sure I cannot get someone to walk around with you, it’s no trouble?”

“Minerva, I know these halls and rooms as well as I know my own home, I am sure a little rebuilding and redecoration has not changed things that much.”

His words were soft and indulgent, as if he were placating a child. He flashed an uncharacteristic smile, not his usual sneer, but a genuinely affectionate and rather devastating smile, at the clearly uneasy Headmistress, who visibly relaxed at his assurances, but did not look entirely convinced.

 

A “little rebuilding and redecoration” thought Hermione, that’s the understatement of the year.  The school had been all but destroyed, raised to the ground in the final battle. Glancing surreptitiously at Lucius Malfoy she drew and odd comparison between the former Death Eater and the school she loved so dearly. Recalling the last day she had seen both. Both shadows of their former selves, both brought to their knees as it were by the Dark Lord. Behind her the school had lain in ruins, reduced to a pile of burning rubble and ashes. Before her had stood Lucius Malfoy a man whose life was in ruins, unkempt and in fear for his life and that of his family. Strange how she recalled his presence with such clarity.  He too it would appear had been restored to his former glory. More than a little rebuilding and redecoration of his own, she mused. 

 

Hermione was brought back to the present as he moved, with elegant, cat like grace across the room.

She had to confess to being more than a little taken aback by the ease of conversation and countenance that transpired between the two former enemies.

“Well as long as you are sure” The Headmistress was saying.

Lucius Malfoy turned to Hermione, his trademark blonde locks cascading about his shoulders as he inclined his head; their translucent pallor a stark contrast to the navy, almost black, beautifully tailored robes he wore.

“Miss Granger, a pleasure as I said.”

He flashed a not quite so indulgent, but decidedly sexier smile in her direction.  His grey eyes twinkling just a tad mischievously, causing Hermione to flush once more. A rather different kind of heat flooding her body.

“I am sure that Draco will be equally as pleased to see you when he returns tomorrow.”

He paused briefly, for effect no doubt thought Hermione, not rising to the obvious bait, but her mind spinning none the less at the revelation. The last thing Draco Malfoy was going to be, was pleased to see her.

Once again she was catapulted back in time. His clipped aristocratic tones and the mention of his son’s name reminding her of her very first encounter with the enigmatic and disdainful Lucius Malfoy, all those years ago. She could still see his face as he looked down his nose at her in Flourish and Blotts, a derisive sneer curling his lip, as her name fell from his cruel mouth. A mouth, she now found her eyes inexplicably drawn to. Something else she felt certain the ever observant wizard hadn’t missed for a second.

“I myself will look forward to seeing you again, soon I hope.”

In a swishing of expensive fabric, a waft of spicy aromatic cologne and a few clicks of metal upon the stone floor, Lucius Malfoy was gone, leaving a rather flustered and somewhat confused Hermione Granger in his wake. 

 

Warm fruit scones, strawberry jam, clotted cream and a self-refilling pot of tea, accompanied the following hour or so of conversation and a surprising amount of gossip that ensued with Hogwarts newest head. 

 

Lucius Malfoy’s heady cologne still seemed to linger in the air, and at times Hermione found her mind wandering.  She could still see those usually cold grey eyes of his twinkling. Every time she recalled his blatant appraisal, a little pool of heat burned low in her belly and she felt her cheeks flush.  This was Lucius Malfoy she reminded herself, vigorously spreading more cream on her scone. Why was she thinking about him at all?

 

“Just between you and me” Minerva McGonagall was explaining.  “I don’t think Draco is that keen on returning. His father might have changed, but he’s still not a man you argue with.”

Hermione’s ears pricked up, pulling her attention away from the thick red jam, and listening intently as Minerva McGonagall shared perhaps a little more than she should about Messrs Malfoy junior and senior. The heavily loaded cake stopped midway between the pretty tartan edged tea plate, and Hermione’s open mouth, when the Headmistress conspiratorially told her just how much time, effort and not to mention money, Lucius Malfoy had invested in the rebuilding of Hogwarts. Surmising, once more, “just between them” it had probably taken his mind off his wife leaving him and of course it hadn’t done his social standing any harm at all. 

The scone finally made its way into Hermione’s mouth, she chewed thoughtfully, not wishing to appear too intrigued or curious about the former follower of the Dark Lord.  Fortunately the Headmistress went on without any prompting. Pouring Hermione another cup of tea, she continued. The young witch listened, totally absorbed in the almost unbelievable revelations.  

 

Hermione was still pondering those revelations as she headed back to the Gryffindor common room, trying desperately to equate what she had heard with the man she knew from her younger days.  She didn’t need a NEWT in arithmancy to deduce it didn’t add up. She was so deeply wrapped up in her thoughts and musings, and what the Headmistress had imparted, that instead of finding herself in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, Hermione looked up only to find herself in the Hogwarts Dungeons. 

Despite the extensive works carried out on the school, they were still cold and musty and they still gave her the creeps. How, or more to the point, why in Merlin’s name had she ended up here? 

 

“Are you lost Miss Granger?”

A somewhat amused sounding voice drawled from behind her, the tell-tale clicking of a cane tip, metal against the cobbled stones edged closer. Despite the chill of the corridor, Hermione once again felt that strange heat course through her veins, like hot liquid honey, warming her body from within. It intensified as the clicking grew louder. And then suddenly silence engulfed the dimly luminated corridor. A bizarre electricity crackling without sound in the air. Hermione could feel Lucius Malfoy’s intimidating and overwhelming presence just inches behind her. That spicy aromatic scent of his, invading her nostrils. Her body tingled with something a lot more frightening than fear. His proximity was such that she could hear his even breathing, shivering slightly, and almost feeling as if his hand had brushed over her back.

 

Hermione reminded herself that she was no longer a child; maybe that was the problem, a little voice chided in her ear. She shut it out and turned to face him. Her brown eyes locking with his mesmerising grey for the second time in a short space of time. Had Lucius Malfoy always been so devilishly handsome?  His imperious presence all but taking her breath away. Oh Hermione Granger was lost all right, but geography had absolutely nothing to do with it………….

 

She should despise the man, be reviled by his mere presence, the way she always had been, but something had changed. According to Minerva McGonagall it was Lucius Malfoy. Losing so much had ensured he had seen the error of his ways, the building she now stood in, was in part testament to that.

Perhaps Hermione herself was just older and hopefully a tad wiser. She no longer viewed things with childish naiveté or simplicity, but looked at the bigger picture. Much as she wanted to believe that, take the intellectual high ground, loath as she was to admit it, any changes she felt had little or nothing to do with being older and wiser or seeing the bigger picture. In fact there was no wisdom whatsoever in what Hermione was thinking about Lucius Malfoy, and that “bigger picture” made her heart beat a little faster, and her palms sweat. They were not the only place that felt unusually damp! 

 

“Like you Mister Malfoy I know this building too well to be lost. I…..”

Hermione wished she had a book or something with her to clutch, she didn’t know what to do with her hands and fiddling would make her look nervous.

“I just thought I would have a little wander round before dinner” She continued. “See if anything had changed.”

The moment she said it Hermione bit her lip.

 

“And has it Miss Granger?” Came the immediate response. Lucius Malfoy didn’t miss a beat. His tone soft and menacingly low.

The tension hung in the air like one of the candles in the Great Hall.

Hermione would need to choose her words very carefully. It would be all too easy to find herself in way over her head…..but then again, it would be no fun spending an entire term at Hogwarts without a distraction or two, some intrigue and a little excitement.

Was Lucius Malfoy really the distraction she wanted?  Something told her he could certainly provide the intrigue and more than a little excitement. She held his penetrating gaze with frightening ease, but could she hold her nerve.

“Well on the surface Mister Malfoy, everything seems to be just as it always was” Hermione paused, a small smile lifting her lips. “That daunting and foreboding exterior, that carefully crafted façade, but once you get beyond that hidden away is something quite magical.”

Hermione saw something flicker in those cold grey eyes of his, a muscle twitched ever so slightly in his taught jaw. She noticed his gloved hand tighten around the serpent headed cane. And a sardonic smile curved his lips.

 “It’s old Miss Granger and has seen its share of trouble and hurt. Looks as we know can be deceiving, it might not be as you imagine it to be.”

 

Hermione’s retort was sharp, almost defensive: “Not by wizarding standards Mister Malfoy and I have the strangest feeling that despite everything, it’s stronger, more resilient and has a capacity for so much more. It certainly looks as impressive and imposing as it always did, perhaps more so.”

 

They weren’t talking about the school and both of them were well aware of the fact.

 

A familiar smirk curled Lucius Malfoy’s lip and for a moment Hermione was daunted by that foreboding exterior. The school motto flashed through her mind as he moved forward. The façade dropping as he obliterated the small expanse of space between them. The kid of his gloved fingers was surprisingly soft as he took her chin roughly between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head back. Hermione took a sharp intake of breath, but remained steadfastly where she was. The tickling had been done, the “dragon” was awake.

 

“The brave little Gryffindor” He said in his clipped aristocratic tones. His face mere inches from hers.

 

“The sexy Slytherin!” The words were out before she could stop them.

 


	2. Reflections of Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione reflects on her encounter with one Malfoy man and strikes a deal with another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for comments and kudos, they are always welcome and appreciated. I hope you continue to enjoy and forgive any errors.

Safely back in her room, Hermione’s heart beat like the Hogwarts Express at full steam.  Her vision of excitement had not included almost being caught in a compromising position by the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Master, Severus Snape. Expelled two days before term was due to start for being inappropriate with a school governor, in the Hogwarts dungeons, was not on her list of to dos!

Hermione stretched languorously on her bed, Cruickshanks that got the cream didn’t even begin to cover it.  A slow naughty smile lifted her still tingling lips, she touched her fingers to them, swollen from his uninhibited and skilled kiss. Hermione Granger closed her eyes.

 

_There was no denying it, Lucius Malfoy was an incredibly sexy Slytherin. Hermione just hadn’t planned on saying it out loud.  The look that flashed across his finely chiselled aristocratic face was however worth the slip, as was what ensued._

_However hard he tried to control his reactions, Hermione was so close she couldn’t miss any of them. The flicker of surprise at her words, which danced in his grey eyes. The pupils narrowing suspiciously, before widening as passion flared.  That intriguing little muscle that pulsed in his jaw. His sensual, yet cruel mouth, opening as if he were about to speak, then simply capturing her lips with his own. Hermione had never been kissed so skilfully, so erotically, or so thoroughly._

_His lips had been firm, yet unexpectedly gentle as they has connected with her own. The fingers that clasped her jaw fell away, slipping beneath her robe and coming to rest on the curve of her hip._

_Hermione found herself leaning into the solid frame of Lucius Malfoy. His mouth moving over hers, his warm tongue tracing the seam of her lips, gently demanding access; she had willingly complied. Her body all but melting to his as he caressed her tongue with his own. Exploring every inch of her mouth, his gloved hand slipping to her thigh, the soft leather squeezing the bare flesh.  Hermione felt a small moan vibrate through her body, her own hands finally finding something to do as they wound their way around Lucius Malfoy’s neck, caressing the nape beneath his long silky hair. His fingers bit harder into her soft flesh, pulling her yet closer to him.  Heat emanated from his body, enveloping her in the unique sent of him. His mouth continued its delicious onslaught, his tongue dancing around hers, twisting and plunging in her mouth. His sharp teeth nipping erotically on her bottom lip._

_Hermione’s body was on fire.  Undiluted pleasure seeping through every pore. Desire washing over her, reaching every expanse of skin, every nerve ending. She pressed herself flush against him, feeling the extent of his arousal, his low moan into her mouth, thrilling her to the extreme._

_His gloved hand moving beneath the hem of her skirt, his thumb making gentle, erotic circles on her inner thigh. It was precariously close to edge of her knickers, but not close enough.  Hermione writhed against him wanting his touch……….._

Her eyes flew open as she recalled the untimely arrival of Professor Snape. Fortunately muttering uncharacteristically loudly to himself about something he appeared to have left in his old office, Hermione was able to scuttle off, remarkably, unseen in the opposite direction as Lucius Malfoy composed himself, and placated his old friend.

 

She must have drifted back to sleep, the long train journey to Hogwarts coupled with her unexpected encounter with Lucius Malfoy depleting her energy. Instead of waking up for dinner in the Great Hall, Hermione found, brilliant morning sunlight streaming through the window of her room in the Gryffindor Tower. As a senior she was afforded the luxury of not having to share a dormitory and considering her current state that was clearly just as well. 

As term didn’t officially start until the following day, pupils arriving early didn’t have to wear their uniforms or robes. Hermione had opted to wear hers the previous day as she was meeting the Headmistress and felt it the appropriate thing to do.  She hurriedly wriggled out of the offending items, they had substituted as pyjamas and looked much the worse for wear. Crumpled and creased she quickly hung them, she would deal with them later, her stomach was not about to miss another Hogwarts meal. The hastiest shower ever, was followed by the usual fight with her unruly mass of hair. There definitely wasn’t time to go through the rigmarole of straightening it and applying serum, a quick tidy charm and an elastic band would have to suffice for now.  She pulled on jeans, and a soft grey cashmere sweater and left the room.

 

Rushing down the stairs and without paying too much attention to where she was going, there was no way her grumbling stomach was going to be side tracked today.  She crashed straight into a familiar blonde.

 

“Watch it Granger, still as clumsy as ever I see”

Draco Malfoy was a lot taller and slimmer than Hermione remembered. His hair was longer, not like his father’s, but longer none the less, and the identical blonde, almost white shade.  He wore the same disdainful look on his chiselled face that he always did, and his blue grey eyes lacked any warmth, unlike his father’s. Hermione couldn’t believe she had just thought that of Lucius Malfoy.

“That would be _Miss_ Granger to you Draco, where are your manners boy.” 

Came an equally familiar voice as Lucius Malfoy appeared amidst the rather familiar rustle of robes and wafting of that deliciously spicy cologne of his. Hermione struggled not to actually laugh out loud. Once again she was reminded of that day in Flourish and Blott’s, and her first encounter with the intimidating dark wizard, his cane coming to rest on his belligerent son’s shoulder as he told him to “play nicely.”  From the expression on Draco’s face, he was as much in fear of his father as he had been back then, and he scowled hatefully at Hermione.

There was no denying the formidable presence of Draco’s father, but Hermione was overawed for very different reasons now. Her body all too keenly aware of him and what he was capable of doing to her. She fought to keep her senses in check at the unexpected sight of the older Malfoy, not to mention the sound and scent of him.   Keeping her eyes firmly fixed on his less than threatening son.

“Yes Ferret, listen to your father, he won’t be around to protect you all term.” She felt like a child again, her words infantile, all that was lacking was poking her tongue out at him.

She toyed errantly with the wand protruding from her pocket and saw Draco visibly recoil. His father saw it too, Hermione noticed Lucius Malfoy’s lips twitch in amusement. Those wonderfully soft lips which had wreaked havoc…….she really had to stop this.      Draco stepped aside quickly as she made to pass, colliding with another pupil, and momentarily distracted.

 

“I see you can handle the Malfoy men very well Miss Granger” Lucius drawled quietly, the words for her ears only, his grey eyes twinkling mischievously, his hand briefly brushing across her lower back, as she moved past him.

Hermione’s breath hitched, even at the brevity of his touch, her warm brown eyes met the all too frightening familiar molten silver. Once upon a time she would have been steeped in fear and loathing, there was still an element of fear, she was not a fool. But it was mixed with curiosity and desire. As the heady mix of emotions coursed through her veins, she was more frightened of herself than of Lucius Malfoy. The brave little Gryffindor he had called her yesterday, standing up to The Dark Lord seemed like a walk in the park compared to the path she were considering taking now.

A small smile sexy smile quirked her lips, as she held Lucius Malfoy’s gaze. Hermione was enjoying the small sense of power she seemed to have over the older wizard. The little muscle in his jaw that she appeared to set in motion. She thrilled in the way his eyes travelled appreciatively over the cashmere sweater that clung lovingly to her curves. She wasn’t going to let the moment pass.

 

“There is only **_one_** Malfoy **_man_**!”

It was all she hand intended to say, accentuating the words quietly but clearly, however when she saw the little pulse in his jaw beat faster, she couldn’t resist……..

“That I would consider _handling.”_

Her tone was as hushed as his had been, giving her voice a sultry low tone.  Amused, as a dark blonde brow rose at her words. The little pulse beat frantically, and Hermione winked at him, she actually winked at Lucius Malfoy, before turning on her heel and walking as casually as she possibly could into the Great Hall.  A sharp “Father” reaching her ears as she arrived at the door. She didn’t turn to look around but could imagine Draco’s indignation, and the look on his spoilt face at the ticking off he’d received from his father.  She would certainly pay for that, but a little sparring with the younger Malfoy was nothing compared to what she was anticipating doing with his father. Hermione swallowed hard, looking at the food in front of her, her appetite suddenly gone.

 

                                                                                * * * * * * * * * *

 

It read like a litany of things he hated, and just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse. His first lesson of the day was the now mandatory, Muggle Studies. As if that wasn’t bad enough, apparently its mandatory status had been spearheaded by his own father.  Draco Malfoy shuffled miserably along to the classroom. He had no Crabbe and Goyle to conspire with or even just to talk to, or rather at. In fact save some of the Professors the only person he actually really knew was Hermione Granger. He might have been able to tolerate that, _just,_ had his father not decided to make him feel like a child in front of her yesterday.  There were an awful lot of things Draco Malfoy found difficult to understand about his father these days. As if insisting he return to Hogwarts wasn’t bad enough, telling him to be “nice to Miss Granger” just about took the biscuit.

Draco Malfoy might stomp around and defy his father when he wasn’t around or was well out of earshot, but to actually do it…….not if he valued his inherence or anything else come to that. With sagging shoulders and a despondent air he made his way to Muggle Studies, it was going to be a very long term.

 

There were only a handful of students who had returned to complete their exams, Hermione knew of them, but they hadn’t been in her circle of friends. Ironically the only person she knew was Draco. In another strange course of events, somehow they seemed to gravitate to each other, starting with him slumping dejectedly into the seat next to her and muttering something about his father having taken leave of his senses. Her heart almost stopped beating, surely Draco didn’t know about……the words “ _and having it made obligatory”_ , drifted to ears. Hermione thought she must have misheard, but apparently not.  Their Professor taking great delight in welcoming, a decidedly embarrassed Draco, and explaining to the small class of students, how his father had been instrumental in not only having Muggle Studies put back on the new curriculum but also ensuring that it was indeed a mandatory subject for all students. Hermione had never seen Draco Malfoy with so much colour in his face.

 

From their very first lesson with Madam Hooch, Hermione had hated flying. She did it out of necessity, and because it was expected of her, but she took little or no pleasure in it.  The last time she had even been on a broomstick was when, Harry and Ron had rescued Draco and Goyle from the fire in the Room of Requirement.  She had been determined to conquer her fear, her dislike, whatever you chose to call it, and had selected to take advance broomstick work, as a subject this term.

“You hate flying Granger, what on earth possessed you?”

Hermione turned irritably towards Draco, his father’s words about calling her Miss Granger, remarkably softening her attitude and response to the younger Malfoy. Eyebrow quirked in the same questioning fashion as his father, she looked into his curious, rather than accusatory face, finding herself being surprisingly honest with him.

“I know, but, I wanted to try and get over that. I mean, a witch not wanting to ride on a broomstick, not exactly how the story goes is it?” 

She held the latest Nimbus distastefully between her fingers. She couldn’t help but notice the small smile on Draco’s face, a genuine smile, just like the one she had seen on his father’s handsome face a couple of days ago. His eyes suddenly narrowed, he looked from Hermione to the broom, a scheme clearly forming in his mind. Hermione’s nerves twitched.

“So Granger how about a deal?”

 

Hermione eyed her former nemesis with suspicion. If days of old were anything to go by this wouldn’t come out favourably for her. But, a little voice reminded her in the back of her head, she’d been quick enough to see his father in a different light.

“What did you have in mind ferret?” She asked cautiously.

 “You help me with Muggle Studies and I will help you enjoy flying?”

Hermione waited for the and, it didn’t come. This was a simple and innocuous trade, most unlike Draco, she tried not to think that he was up to something.

Draco seemed to sense her reticence and suspicion. She had been honest with him about conquering her dislike, he appreciated that. “People can change you know Granger. I don’t want to be here at all, I had no choice.” His voiced trailed of slightly. “It would be more tolerable, if I had one person to talk to.”

 

Hermione was gobsmacked at Draco’s confession, not entirely sure if it made her more suspicious or not. But, like getting over her aversion to flying, perhaps getting along with Draco Malfoy was something she should try and do too.

“Ok ferret you’ve got yourself a deal”

She looked at the haughty pureblood, so like his father but nowhere near as handsome. His much smaller frame wrapped in his Slytherin cloak, was far less imposing or commanding than his father. Hearing him ask what, as clearly she was studying him perhaps a little too thoughtfully.  She improvised quickly.

 “I was just wondering who got the shorter straw.”

“I think, we both have our work cut out for us Granger” Draco said grabbing the broomstick. Hopping onto it, he made it hover inches from the ground. Swinging on it like a giant pendulum. “But I intend to get a head start.”

Before Hermione knew what was happening, Draco had scooped her up onto the narrow stick.  Holding on for all she was worth, Hermione let out a horrified scream as they zoomed over the Quidditch pitch, nipping skilfully between the hoops. Hermione tried not to think about Draco landing with a resounding thud on the pitch, during their second year. 

“Imagine you’re about to catch the golden snitch” He called back to her. “Everyone cheering as Gryffindor beats Slytherin.”

 

She couldn’t help but laugh, knowing Malfoy would not be nearly so amused, if that were the case, but she appreciated the sentiment, and tried to imagine the picture he painted.  She had to concede doing this for fun and not having thought about it, did actually make it less daunting.  As Draco slowed the pace a little, she released her vice like grip on him and relaxed. She was more than a tiny impressed with his skilled broomsmanship. Despite the break neck speed with which he had taken off, the ride was smooth and by the time he brought them gracefully back down to terra firma, she had to admit she had almost enjoyed herself. 

 

“I hate to admit it ferret, but that was almost fun.” She confessed dismounting from the broom, using him to steady herself.

“Guess you do have the shorter straw after all Granger.” Draco’s face was etched with boyish triumph.  “Muggle Studies homework then?”

Hermione had the distinct feeling he was right. Getting him to like this subject was an uphill battle at the best of times, but she felt his dislike for it now had more to do with his father than it did with the topic itself. But Hermione liked a challenge, and the Malfoy men certainly seemed to be providing her with that of late.

 


	3. The Feast of All Hallows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some revelations and discoveries ....... let the feast begin.

And so the odd friendship between the Muggleborn and the son of the supremacist Pureblood began……..and developed.

For her part Hermione found Draco’s surprisingly skilled, if somewhat unorthodox methods of _teaching_ very affective. She began to actually enjoy flying and looked forward to their sessions together. Even causing him to compliment her on more than one occasion about how proficient she was becoming.

Hermione found her days taken up with the younger Malfoy. Draco was a surprisingly quick study when he applied himself, who much as he would stringently deny it, actually enjoyed Muggle Studies. In class he was sullen and refused to participate, moaning that it was a complete waste of time, despite what his father might say. But in Hermione’s homework classes, all pretence was dropped, and she even took to regaling the often mystified, yet intrigued young pureblood with tales from her childhood. His natural nosiness took over and sometimes he would ask so many questions, Hermione felt as if she were being interrogated, but she never laughed at him or refused to answer. She felt the more he knew, the more he would understand, well in theory that was how it worked.  

She frequently found herself wondering if this was what Lucius had been like as a young man, and would then find her nights filled with thoughts of the older Malfoy, repeatedly waking up, fortunately not in her school uniform, from dreams which left her hot, bothered and incredibly aroused.  Sometimes they were so vivid she could feel his warm lips upon her, his tongue rubbing against her own, his strong gloved fingers, biting into the soft flesh of her thighs, his fingers just shy of her heated arousal. She would wake up panting, almost reaching out to touch him.  Hermione was becoming so frustrated, she was fit to burst, and it put her in no mood for Draco’s petulant tantrum at breakfast.  Thanks to a particularly erotic dream of Malfoy senior she was later than usual, the mail had already been delivered. Draco was throwing down an owl he had received as Hermione slid in next to him.

“What’s wrong” She asked gesturing the discarded missive.

“Nothing, it’s private” He snapped, the paper instantly catching light and turning into a pile of ashes on the long table.

His nasty tone, and the look on his face reminded her of the old days, and that she wasn’t talking to Harry or Ron, she didn’t have that sort of relationship with Draco Malfoy.  It added to her frustration and Hermione felt the sting of tears touch her eyes.  She jumped up and left the Great Hall, colliding with Minerva McGonagall as she exited the room.

“Ah Miss Granger, just the person I was hoping to bump into, if not quite so literally.” She gave Hermione a broad smile, seemingly not noticing her flushed face and teary eyes.

“I would like your help” Hermione found her arm linked somewhat conspiratorially through the Headmistresses’ “For this year’s Halloween feast I have asked the school Governors to join us.”

“Oh” was all Hermione could manage. Her tears vanishing, her mind already going off on a very different tangent.

“Yes they all wanted to come at various times to see the school, see how it was all going, you know the things and I couldn’t be doing with that.” The Headmistress explained. “There are 12 of you seniors and 12 Governors, I shall assign you one each to look after, take care of, and show them whatever they want to see.”

 

Another “Oh” slipped from Hermione’s lips.

“I am assigning Lucius Malfoy to you Miss Granger, he is once again the Chair of the school Governors and I think he should be taken particular care of.”

Hermione’s brown eyes widened at Professor McGonagall’s statement. This time managing an “OH BUT.” At the thought of taking particular care of Lucius Malfoy.

“I think he would benefit from your unbiased opinion, as opposed to that of his son.  He is naturally inquisitive, snooping one might say, and I think you will be able to deal with him better than most.”

And with that she was gone, brooking no room for discussion or argument.  Leaving Hermione reeling at the notion of dealing with the Chair of the School Governors.

As if Draco wasn’t in a bad enough mood, this was going to go down like a packet of Weasley’s puking pastels at a party!  Ironic that it was the idea of imparting the information to Draco that filled her with trepidation, as opposed to spending the entire evening with a former Death Eater.

 

Draco found Hermione in the library; she’d had a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson with Professor Snape and was swatting up for a paper he’d set. He had been in Herbology all morning, and this was the first opportunity he’d had to talk to her.  Draco shuffled his feet nervously before sitting opposite her, grey eyes looking firmly at the back of the book she was reading….. Draco Malfoy apologised.

“Sorry I was grumpy this morning” He saw the look of utter disbelief on her face and was torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to storm off in indignation. As she put her book down to look directly at him, he went for the former, well managing a small, sheepish smile at least.

“I got an owl from my father.” He began “Apparently McGonagall has invited all of the school Governors to the Halloween feast this year and the seniors have to bloody well babysit them….. Look after them.” He corrected at Hermione’s raised eyebrow. “The only good thing about coming back here was getting away from my father and now I am going to be stuck with him for the evening”

His apology had flabbergasted her, his revelation astounded her. Draco rarely spoke of his family and especially not his relationship with Lucius. So, much as she wanted to let him suffer for a just a little bit she couldn’t, he seemed too distraught at the prospect.

“No you won’t be” Hermione said matter-of-factly. “I bumped into the Headmistress after I left you this morning. She told me about the Halloween Feast.” Hermione chose he words carefully, she was sure from what Draco had just said he would be only too pleased with the news, but trod carefully none the less.  “She has asked me to _babysit_ your father. She says it will be less err…. prejudicial. Others may view it as favouritism if you were to be assigned to him.”

Draco’s face practically lit up for a moment before falling. “Oh Granger that’s rough, I didn’t want to be stuck with him, but didn’t want you to get lumbered.”

“Lumbered” was not the first adjective that sprang to mind when Hermione thought about spending time with Lucius Malfoy. Afraid she might give herself away, she made light of the situation: “Hey ferret I’ve been stuck with you since term started, I doubt a few hours with your father could be much worse.” 

Draco appeared a little affronted at her remark, clearly he didn’t take kindly to being compared to his father. But a playful dig in the ribs got her off the hook, and a relieved “Rather you than me.”

 

                                                                                * * * * * * * * * * *

 

During her sixth year at Hogwarts, on a trip to Hogsmeade, Hermione had discovered a _rather interesting”_ little shop. It was just past Madam Puddifoot’s, tucked away down a tiny street, not quite as insalubrious as Knockturn Alley, but getting there.  From the outside it didn’t actually look too dissimilar from the tacky tea shop. Its front window leaning slightly more towards red, than the gaudy pink of Madam Puddifoot’s. There was very little exhibited in the small window to indicate what Paradise Glossed might sell, save a few brightly coloured bottles, a scattering of candles, and some _odd_ shaped glassware, all displayed upon strategically draped silk, so a curious Hermione had wandered in.

Inside, the shop was decorated in similar tones to the red of the outside, what wasn’t red was black. The glass cabinets had reminded her of the potions classroom, but they didn’t house an assortment of strange pickled animals, they housed a strange assortment of what looked like instruments of torture.  Hermione’s eyes had widened in realisation, those brightly coloured bottles and candles in the window, clearly containing a selection of potions and scents that one might use with the _odd or phallic_ shaped glassware in the window.

Her initial reaction had been to leave the shop as fast as her legs would carry her, but something stopped her. The strange scent that filled the air perhaps, vanilla and something she couldn’t quite place. Her overwhelming sense of inquisitiveness had drawn her in still further, pushing her in the direction of one of the cabinets, located at the very back of the shop, in front of a curtained alcove. The very alcove that Hermione found herself in front of now.

 

Slipping through the heavy black velvet curtain as she had done back then, Hermione found herself amidst a vast array of lingerie, ranging from pretty and girlie to the downright bizarre. Delicate white silk and lace, nestled alongside strips of rich black leather.  When it came to clothing of any kind, Hermione Granger had never splurged on anything. The cashmere jumper she owned, being her one and only indulgence, and that had been more for practicality than anything else. Most of the garments in Paradise Glossed could certainly not be deemed practical in any sense of the word. But Hermione didn’t want practical, or simple or cotton. She definitely didn’t want bizarre either, so kept well away from the strips of leather.  

The ridiculously expensive scraps of delicate rose pink silk and lace she finally decided upon were exquisite. She had tried not to think about anything or anyone as she slipped them on in the boudoir styled changing room. Trying desperately to convince herself that she was simply buying them for her own pleasure.

Lucius Malfoy’s hand gripped her thigh, as she slipped the tiny knickers on. The beautifully crafted bra cups gave her small breasts a gentle lift and a rather nice cleavage. She felt a gloved finger slip beneath the wispy lace……….. She hurried to pay for them before she changed her mind. 

The shiny black mannequin next to the pay desk, wore a stunning lace teddy.  Hermione was transfixed, the soft, skimpy fabric clinging to the hard feminine shape flawlessly, the stark black emphasising the dark emerald green shade to perfection.

A wicked smile lifted Hermione’s lips as the item was added to her other purchases, wrapped in dark red tissue paper, and popped in the very discreet, charmed bag, of which Hermione was given instructions on how to open, by equally discreet sales assistant.

                                                                                * * * * * * * * *

 

Hermione was quite surprised to discover two of the Hogwarts governors were women, for some reason, she had ridiculously assumed they would all be male.

Xena Perry was a witch in her sixties, as round as she was tall, with a shock of pure white curly hair. She wore rimless spectacles, which she peered over attentively, when the headmistress welcomed them to the school.

Nemessia Fellows was the polar opposite. A tall elegant witch, clad in immaculate, purple robes. Her hair hung sleekly around her face, like a curtain of burnished copper. Her green eyes glittered like a cat, beneath incredibly long lashes.  She was Draco’s charge for the evening and from her vantage point, he seemed totally smitten. 

Ironically, Nemessia Fellows had arrived on the arm of Lucius Malfoy, they had made a very striking couple as they’d made their entrance. Her long talon like fingers, nails painted the same shade as her robes, draped over the chairman’s arm. Hermione fought off the pang of jealously that stabbed viciously at her chest. She had watched intently as Lucius had introduced her to his son. Noticing how the striking witch had lost interest in the Malfoy patriarch almost immediately, giving her undivided attention to Draco. That talloned hand now wrapped intently around the younger man’s arm. She guided him possessively across the room, her tinkling, false laughter permeating the air.  Draco certainly didn’t seem to mind _babysitting_ Nemessia Fellows in the slightest, Hermione observed, and he definitely didn’t appear to be lumbered. A small frown of consternation crossing her face, she wondered if this was how Lucius Malfoy had looked as a young Slytherin, and if Draco possessed the same expertise with women as his father did.

 

A familiar scent drifted to her nostrils and she felt Lucius Malfoy’s powerful presence behind her.

“Do I sense a little jealousy Miss Granger?” His soft aristocratic tone queried somewhat menacingly.

She had been looking forward to this evening, like a child looks forward to Christmas. At times she’d found it difficult to contain her excitement, especially around Draco. Hermione had managed to hold her own with the dark wizard up until now, she wasn’t about to lose the advantage. She turned slowly to face Lucius Malfoy, his proximity almost overwhelming.

“Not any longer” She told him boldly, meeting those infamous grey eyes and noticing the self-satisfied, dare she say smirk, which curled his lip.

“My attention, Miss Granger is exclusively yours.” He inclined his head theatrically. “The Headmistress explained that we would each have a senior to, look after us as it were. To show us _anything_ we wished to see” His slate grey eyes fell provocatively. “I am of course delighted that you will taking care of my wishes this evening”.

Hermione felt her body ignite under his penetrative gaze and suggestive words. The lace between her legs dampening, the lustrous silk at her breasts, seeming to abrade against her aching nipples. She didn’t falter.

“I was told Mr Malfoy, that as the chair of the school governors, I needed to take particular care of you. And it really wouldn’t do for me to go against the Headmistress’ orders, now would it?”

 

His response was curtailed by the announcement that the feast was about to begin, and that they should all make their way to the Great Hall. Chivalrous as ever Lucius Malfoy gave Hermione Granger his arm.

 

A separate table had been laid out in the Great Hall for the governors and their seniors. Hermione took her place at the table, somewhat amused to find herself seated between the two Malfoy men. Minerva McGonagall was looking particularly pleased with herself as she caught Hermione’s eye.

 

For the evening, Hermione had not only swapped her serviceable cotton underwear, but also her sensible school shoes and uniform socks. A modest pair of patent heels replaced the black brogues and skin toned hold up stockings, were actually more appropriate for a young woman of her age than the long grey socks that formed part of the Gryffindor uniform. The stockings had found their way into her bag after she’d happened upon them in Paradise Glossed. The elastic that held them in place was cleverly concealed within some intricate lacework, which just happened to match her newly acquired underwear perfectly.  The fingers which now skilfully traced that deep band of lace, shocked her and left her robbed of breath.  As did the hand which tapped her other thigh, this one merely trying to attract her attention. Holy mother of Merlin!

“Are you alright Granger? You look a bit flushed” Draco whispered, dragging his attention away from the clearly beguiling Nemessia Fellows. “Is my father behaving himself?”

If Draco moved his hand an inch or so he would find out that his father was far from behaving himself, but Hermione was enjoying every minute of it.

“I am fine” She assured him, albeit a little huskily. Desperately trying to keep her breathing as even as she could, with Lucius Malfoy’s long elegant fingers caressing her soft bare flesh. “It’s just a little warm in here tonight.” She demurred “And yes Draco, of course your father is behaving himself, surely you didn’t expect otherwise on school premises!”

 

With a sidelong glance, Draco regarded his father suspiciously. Years of hiding secrets and deception, meant his schooled features gave nothing away. Whilst a little less cold than usual, his face was a mask of implacability.

 

Hermione’s warm smile and reassurances seemed to placate the younger Malfoy and he once again turned his attention to the demands, and talons of Nemessia Fellows.

 

An assortment of sugary desserts had magically replaced the main meal of the evening on the long table. As if Hermione didn’t have enough temptation to resist, a chocolate fountain appeared alongside bowls of glistening, lush strawberries, and thick cream. She took one of the small fruits and dipped it in the cascading milky fondant, adding a dollop of cream just to be totally decadent and popped it in her mouth.

Lucius Malfoy’s fingers still caressed her soft, bare thigh. He seemed totally oblivious to the fact that someone might realise, he had spent most of the feast with one hand under the table. He hadn’t eaten anything but no one seemed to have noticed, to care or maybe they just didn’t dare say.

“Mmmm,” came an incredibly sexy sound as he reached passed her.

Taking a strawberry from the bowl, he imitated Hermione’s actions. First coating the plump fruit in liquid chocolate and then twisting it between those long fingers of his, and dipping it into the thick cream.

Hermione squirmed at the ludicrously erotic gesture. Biting back a moan as he slipped it slowly into his mouth, savouring every mouthful.

“Such tender young fruit” He observed with quiet relish. “Sinfully sweet, it deserves to be enjoyed properly.”

 

Hermione noticed his tongue remove an errant spot of cream from his top lip. She was all but shaking from the intensity of the innocuous movement. His fingers dipped briefly inside the wet lace of her panties. His thumb brushing over the partial thatch of hair. He raised a clearly surprised, blonde eyebrow, his grey eyes twinkling in approval at his discovery, he withdrew his hand. Leaving Hermione almost panting at the table. He lifted his thumb to his mouth, tracing it across his lips, he delicately licked and sucked on the pad, closing his eyes momentarily.

“Lovely” He drawled, once again holding Hermione’s warm brown eyes, with his own. “Deliciously juicy.”

 

Hermione felt heat colour her face at his words. Their meaning so blatant, a little crude perhaps from someone else, but from his mouth, in that soft, sexy, cut glass tone. Hermione squeezed her legs together, desperately trying to assuage the void his fingers had left and the aching need he was creating.

“So Miss Granger.” He began in an almost business-like tone. “In an endeavour to keep you of out Minerva’s bad books, I think you should show me some of things I would like to see.” His mouth narrowed in seriousness but his molten silver eyes twinkled in devilment.

 

“And what would you like to see Mr Malfoy” Hermione asked, leaning a little closer, her voice barely audible over the bustle in the Great Hall. “You heard what the Headmistress said. _Nothing_ is off limits this evening.”

 

For one night only, for the express purpose of the governors visit, the 12 seniors had been given permission to go freely into any part of the castle, save the Headmistress’ office and the teaching staff’s personal chambers.  For one night only, passwords had been swapped and wards had been removed. They would all be changed and reset the following morning. But for tonight, if a Slytherin wanted access to the Gryffindor Tower, or a Hufflepuff wanted to sit in the Ravenclaw common room they could.

 

Lucius Malfoy regarded the young woman seated between himself and his son.  The brightest witch of her age she had once been described as.  He had described her as a Muggle and viewed her with derision. As a girl his son had viciously referred to her as the Mudblood. As a young woman his late, deranged sister-in-law had tortured her in his own home.

She was feisty, she was beautiful and she was brave. How he found himself in the situation he now did, was beyond comprehension. That he wanted to do the things he did, defied belief.  That she had allowed it, reciprocated, and responded to him as she did was almost outside the realms of understanding.

Since their unexpected encounter almost two months ago, Lucius Malfoy practically ached for Hermione Granger. He’d had dreams he hadn’t experienced since he was a teenager and he woke up harder than he had done in years. Even his own experienced hand failed to satisfy him.

Since Narcissa had left him, Lucius had enjoyed the company of a string of witches, all only too pleased to panda to his every whim. The thought of any of them now left him unaroused, and quite frankly cold. Fire only burned in his belly and ultimately in his groin, at the thought of Hermione Granger.  The brief memory of her soft young body, flush against his own, left him achingly aroused, time and time again.

In a man of his age and his experience, little astonished him. He loved that she did. Her actions, let alone her reactions in the dungeons, had caught the former Death Eater totally off guard. Tonight it had been a simple piece of clothing and an unexpected discovery that had awaked his desires, hardened his body almost to the point of pain, and pushed him to the limits of distraction. Not because he hadn’t encountered lace top stockings before or a partially shaven pussy for that matter, but simply because it was her.

“Why don’t you surprise me Miss Granger?” Lucius Malfoy all but purred. “It seems to be your forte.”

 

She studied his unfathomable face. Her forte!  She was flattered of course, but anything she had done thus far to surprise him, had been purely coincidental, it wasn’t something she had intentionally set out to do, and despite his words, she doubted anything truly surprised him. A passionate kiss, some lacy underwear and an interesting discovering, could hardly be described as earth shattering in the world of Lucius Malfoy. How did she knowingly surprise him?

A school full of staff and pupils, not to mention 12 governors wandering around, ruled out the possibility of picking up where they left off in the dungeons. And taking him back there wouldn’t exactly be surprising. Hermione chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip, she dipped another strawberry in the flowing chocolate, added the obligatory indulgence of cream and popped it in her mouth. Licking her lips, she smiled at Lucius Malfoy and rose from the table.

“Let me give you the three galleon tour Mr Malfoy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments and kudos, they are always most welcome. I am glad you are enjoying the story and I hope that this chapter didn't disappoint.


	4. Tartan Earmuffs, Haggis & Silk Underwear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As instructed by Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Hermione Granger is looking after School Governor Lucius Malfoy at the Feast of All Hallows....."The Tour" starts here.

 

During her first term at Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall had given Hermione a time turner. At the same time she had shared some castle secrets with the young Gryffindor. Including the whereabouts of some secret entranceways and passages scattered about the school.

“You never know when you might legitimately need to avoid a prefect or even sidestep a teacher.” The wily Scot had explained with a wicked glint in her eye, as she showed her one such spot.

Just around the corner from her old office when she was Head of House, was the Tapestry Corridor. One of the less ugly pictures on display, was of an elderly witch in a rocking chair. She appeared to be dozing, her head tilted slightly to one side, her long greying hair tucked behind her ear.

Ensuring that she and Hermione were completely alone, Professor McGonagall had approached the painting and whispered into the ear of the witch. The painting had immediately swung backwards, revealing a long narrow corridor. Apparently the meandering corridor led to a room in the Gryffindor Tower, which a student called Minerva McGonagall had once occupied. The room that Hermione now resided in.

“Tartan earmuffs” Was the password, McGonagall had told her, but only to be used for legitimate purposes, emergencies and as long as no one was around. She had winked at Hermione, telling her that they were the only two people that knew of its existence, it had even proved unplottable, eluding the powerful Homonculous Charm that had been used to create the Marauders Map.

 

Lucius Malfoy leant on his ever present serpent headed cane. He certainly looked surprised. His face was also etched with disappointment and if Hermione wasn’t very much mistaken a hint of boredom.  Noticing how he twirled the cane abstractedly between his long fingers, his attention clearly elsewhere. She felt sure the newly renovated Tapestry Corridor had changed very little since he was a pupil here, and it probably held as little interest now as it did then, undoubtedly it wasn’t what he’d had in mind.

Hermione kept her own face as straight and unreadable as possible, droning on about, how the seemingly dozing witch in this particular painting, was in fact related to the current Headmistress. She moved forward, like an expert, as if to inspect it closer, and whispered in the ear of the elderly woman: “Tartan earmuffs.” The painting immediately swung backwards to reveal its secret.

“Illuminos” Hermione said and one solitary light burst into life, bathing her in a dim yellow glow.

She had Lucius Malfoy’s attention now, any hint of boredom completely vanished.  Hermione moved further into the narrow passageway and he stepped in after her. The painting immediately swung back into place, concealing both its existence and its occupants. As Hermione deftly moved along the narrow passageway, the specific illuminating charm moved with her. As she approached, a dim yellow light would immediately burn, the one behind her instantly extinguishing, masking any trace of them.

Unlike the password in the Tapestry Corridor, the password for access from the passage into the Gryffindor Tower, could only be set by its current denizen: “haggis” Said Hermione and a virtually invisible door swung open, just as the painting at the opposite end had done.

 

Lucius Malfoy had the ability to dominate any room, but her small dormitory practically shrivelled around him, right at this moment Hermione knew exactly how that felt. 

She had lost count of the times, in the last few weeks she had woken up in this very room, wanting the man who now stood, elegantly and assuredly before her.  A more experienced and confident woman, would be seducing him by now. But she suddenly felt very awkward, more than a little overawed and a tiny bit afraid.

 

“You see Miss Granger, I am seldom wrong.”

The Dark Wizard’s menacingly soft and haughty voice broke the silence in the room. Hermione’s unease waned, and she immediately rose to the bait, closing the small expanse of space between them. The sultry tone of his voice, his arrogant words and the lustful look in his grey eyes, seemed to somehow restore her confidence. Not to mention, reignite the burning need between her thighs. 

“Surprising me is clearly very much your forte.”

 

Her small fingers toyed absently with the serpent ornaments on his cloak as she spoke. Her face veiled in solemnity.

“Mr Malfoy, I must be seen to be doing my duty this evening.” Her eyes did not leave his for one moment. “So please, tell me what can I show you?”

She saw something flicker in his face, his eyes darkened to the colour of slate, his nostrils flared and _her_ little muscle in his jaw pulsed frantically.  In the most minimalistic of movements, those long fingers of his were once again caressing the lacy top of her stocking. His extraordinarily soft cheek brushed against hers, his mouth at her ear, his tongue wet as it traced the shell

“These” He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

His hand then moving slowly and deliberately to the lace of her panties, slipping beneath the silky edge, to caress her intimately. “And this.”

She arched intuitively into his touch, a small gasp escaping her lips. His breath was warm against her skin. Hermione felt her cloak fall from her shoulders pooling around her feet. She hadn’t even realised he had unhooked it. His mouth traced an incendiary path along the side of her neck, she felt her tie gently tugged upon and it slid willingly from under her collar. 

Hermione had been clinging to the two serpent adornments on his cloak, almost as if her life depended on it. Fear that, if perhaps she let go, her knees would buckle under the exquisite torture he was inflicting on her body.  Finally letting go, her fingers released the fastenings, and like hers it slid to the ground. 

Hermione’s jaw skimmed his, she inhaled the unique, exotic, yet masculine scent that clung to his long platinum hair, reaching out to touch it instinctively.  The lustrous strands slipped between her fingers and she found herself repeating the action, in almost childlike wonderment.

Her lips were a hairs breadth from his, she tentatively kissed the corner of his mouth.

Except for the infinitesimal movement of his thumb and gentle rise and fall of his chest, Lucius Malfoy remained totally motionless. Hermione’s tongue traced the inside of his top lip, her fingers still stroking his flaxen hair. They were the only movements in the room, so small, so deliberate and so erotic.

“Show me” He said against her mouth. His tone commanding but gentle, almost unrecognisable.

It was taking every ounce of willpower that he possessed, not to scoop her up, deposit her on the very small bed and just take her. He had been imagining this moment over and over for weeks, his body couldn’t take much more.  Her deliciously soft lips left his and she took a step back, yanking her school jersey up over her head.  His body was already highly aroused from a few simple touches, and her chaste kiss, it throbbed mercilessly, as she discarded the grey woollen sweater.  

The simple white school shirt she wore beneath it was buttoned to the neck, her hand moved down the front, releasing each fastening with painstaking languor. Lucius gripped his cane, resisting the overwhelming urge to extract his wand and use a vanishing spell on the remainder of her clothing, well most of it.  He gripped it yet tighter, his knuckles almost white, as the pleated skirt she wore slid down her long slender legs and she stepped elegantly out of it.

Hermione’s fingers clasped the edges of the now completely unbuttoned shirt, about to slip it from her shoulders. 

He saw a flash of fear cross her face, as the green eyed serpent of his cane came to rest on her hands, stopping her.

“Allow me.”  He said, his voice ominously dark but velvety soft

The darkness in his voice held no fear for her, the desire in his eyes speaking volumes. Hermione’s fingers curled provocatively around the head of the cane, slipping it under her arm and pulling him closer. She heard it fall to the ground, landing with a gentle thud on the ever mounting pile of discarded clothing.

His thumbs brushing the soft swell of her breasts as his warm hands moved under the thin cotton, skimming her shoulders, he slid it from her body.

Hermione couldn’t repress the shiver that travelled through her, suddenly feeling very exposed under the power of his gaze. But her body was burning with expectant desire, anticipation singing in her ears.  She felt a finger dip beneath the silky bra cup, just as she had imagined in the shop, the tip brushing her nipple, the intensity was overwhelming. Hermione’s body arched toward him instinctively, a sensual groan escaping her lips.

This time there was no leather between them, no gloves to mask his skilled touch. His free hand came up to caress her other breast, kneading the small, silk encased globe in his large hand. Her head falling back, Hermione’s body was awash with sensation and desire. Heat pooled low in her belly and a fresh rush of moisture dampened her panties.

His lips were upon her throat, savouring every sensitive spot that made her tremble and groan. His tongue swirled in the small hollow at its base.  His hair falling across her body like a silky white shroud, as his teeth nipped at her collar bone. Starting near her shoulder and slowly, oh so slowly moving inwards. His mouth and hands continuing their sensual waltz over her skin.  

Her skin was flawless, deliciously soft, and so smooth to the touch. A light floral fragrance drifted from its warmth, invading his senses, it was like he was drowning in her.  He drew back to take in the young woman before him, he couldn’t supress a groan of appreciation.  A little incredulity still drifted through his veins. Her creamy white skin bore a slight flush, it stung her cheeks, crept down her slender neck and bloomed across her pert breasts. She was bare, save a few wisps of the palest pink silk and lace, and those sinful stockings.  

The small room was blanketed in silence, only the occasional sound of pleasure permeating the air.

He pulled her back against him, his mouth capturing hers in a searing, fierce kiss. Delighting in the extraordinary contrast of feelings that suffused his body, brought on by the softness of one hand, which caressed his cheek with unabashed tenderness, and the other which wound its way into his hair almost violently.  In response the kiss deepened, a relentless onslaught of, lips, teeth and tongues, her passion easily matching his.

Her body grinding against his straining erection was nearly his downfall, the sheer unadulterated lust of her action causing him to thrust back hard against her. The sensual moan it provoked from deep in her throat stirred such a primal reaction in Lucius Malfoy he could hold back no longer.  

That he could derive so much enjoyment from eliciting and inflicting pleasure on another person was a completely alien experience. As was his desire to explore what he could do to the delectable Miss Granger.   Much as he wanted to remove her underwear, slowly suckle one pert nipple between his lips and then the other. Unhurriedly moving down her flat stomach and allowing his tongue to taste her desire for him; a very small bed in her school dormitory, with time not on his side, certainly wasn’t the place for that.  This knowledge not only fuelled his desperation but heightened his need for her. 

Hermione’s legs collided with the wooden edge of her bed, wrapped in her ardour for Lucius Malfoy she was caught unawares and tumbled backwards, landing in a very provocative and inviting position, her arms and legs splayed.

A wicked glint twinkled in his grey eyes and a rather familiar, if less frightening smirk curled his lip. 

“Perfect” He said his voice hoarse with desire.

Hermione regarded the man before her, “This is Lucius Malfoy” Her brain reminded her, as if she needed reminding

 “Mmmmm” Her body screamed back in response.   Dark and unknown. A daunting yet thrilling prospect; Hermione had done, expected, predictable and simple _,_ andquite frankly it was boring.

There was nothing black and white about Lucius Malfoy, except the jacket which he was unbuttoning at lightning speed and the dress shirt he wore beneath it.  The only thing clear cut about him was his aristocratic tone.  He brought out a side of her that she didn’t know she possessed, let alone was capable off and he had elicited that side _with alarming speed._

His jacket was discarded with haste, his fingers releasing the tiny buttons on his shirt.

“No magic” She mused silently, not that she minded. Her brain, now appearing to catch up with her body:  “Merlin! The man looked even sexier, if that was possible, partially clothed.”

The notion sparked something in _that side_ of Hermione, and propping herself up on her elbows, she kicked off her shoes.

He was just close enough to reach comfortably, her stocking foot caressing his calf through the wool of his trousers, slinking up to just above the knee. He pulled his pristine white shirt from the waist band. His steely gaze meeting hers, as her small foot reached his thigh. A feline smile crossing her lips, as the ball of her foot brushed gently over taunt material at his groin. She revelled in the hiss of breath that escaped from between his lips, her toes tracing the outline of his ample arousal.

The hiss of breath turning to a groaned: “Aaahh.” As his hand came to cover her foot, rubbing it harder against his swollen flesh.

Her toes curled around him and she pressed her foot harder into his crotch, sliding it along his shaft. Her big toe drew along the outline of his fly, Lucius followed it with his fingers, dragging down the zipper and releasing the button. Her heel pressed mercilessly on his cock, as her toes brushed against his bare midriff.   

Much as Lucius loved that silky underwear and those sinful stockings, he needed to feel her bare flesh against his, to see what his fingers had already sampled. A simple wandless spell left her completely bare foot brushing against his stomach and her completely bare body laid open to him on the bed. 

    

Hermione’s body tingled as the remainder of her clothing vanished, she had wondered how long it would take.

She no longer felt awkward or overawed, although a little frisson of fear still ghosted over her. She no longer felt exposed under his penetrative gaze, but delighted in its lustful appreciation.  His skin felt glorious beneath her bare foot, as she moved it across the flat plane of his stomach and back again.  Her heel coming to rest at the base of the open zipper, Hermione flexed her foot, the action causing his trousers to fall slightly, dropping to his hips. Instead of feeling expensive silk, or luxurious cotton beneath the sole, she felt the tickle of hair. Lucius Malfoy had a surprise of his own.

“Unexpected” She said, her eyes twinkling at him.

Where had this woman come from? Her brain wondered. Who cares, screamed her body.

Hermione realised there was something incredibly erotic about a highly aroused man, partially undressed, but confined by his clothing.  The fact he wore no underwear was even more exciting.  His hand caressed her calf, then her foot, pushing it down lower, so it once more touched his sheathed flesh.

 

Merlin! How could a man look so sexy, it was unnatural? How this man happened to be Lucius Malfoy was even more disturbing.

His white shirt hung open, revealing a well-toned upper body, pale but with just the right amount of dark blonde hair. No doubt it matched the shade, her foot now nestled in.  His face was ever so slightly flushed, something Hermione had never witnessed before. His eyes were an incredible shade of charcoal, tinged with a hint of blue. His lips, like his face were stained with a suggestion of colour, almost red, from their passionate kisses. His impeccably tailored trousers clung by a whisper to his broad hips, no doubt held only in place by flesh that lay swollen beneath them.

Hermione’s own body pulsed at the thought. Her brain fast forwarding a few frames, her body approving. Lucius Malfoy’s impeccably tailored and beautifully pressed trousers slipping over those sturdy hips and the rigid flesh that she had felt under her foot, finally free.

 Her brain then rewound to what he had said earlier. “Surprise me.”

 How could she not obey the command of such a man? Her body thrilled at the prospect.

Unlike him, Hermione didn’t resort to magic. Youth and dexterity were on her side, and she was proving to have some exceptionally good _footwork_. Her other foot snaking its way up his leg, coming to rest playfully on his hip and effectively pinioning between her legs. That quizzical eyebrow rose once more and _her_ little muscle went into overdrive.

 

The muscle in his jaw wasn’t the only part of Lucius Malfoy’s body pulsating rapidly. His cock was screaming for release in every sense of the word.  He’d never had a foot at his groin before, he would never have believed it could feel so good or so suggestive. The thought of what the rest of her body could do to him, his brain couldn’t begin to imagine.

Sprawled on the small bed in her lacy underwear she had looked beautiful. Divested of her clothing she had looked ravishing. With her body swathed in arousal, she was beyond words. Her already pert nipples now tightly budded peaks. Her soft lips, swollen and full from their heated exchange and the core of her femininity, partially bare and glistening with her desire for him.

Hermione’s feet met behind what she knew would be an equally glorious arse, but that discovery would have to wait.  It appeared she calculated the movement perfectly, his trousers slipping still further over his hips as she pulled him forward. The restriction of his falling trousers and her legs wrapped around him, causing him to stumble and fall forward. His hands either side of her, stopped him landing hard on top of her, but it brought his solid body flush against her. The muscled wall of his chest against her soft breasts and his shaft pressed against her slick heat.

“Perfect.” She said mimicking his monosyllabic word.

Lucius moaned audibly as she rubbed herself against him, her wet lips coating his shaft. Shifting his weight, he positioned himself at her entrance. Hermione’s legs wrapped around his lower back, pulling him forward once again, more forcibly this time.

He thrust into her, stretching and filling her as she had never been before. Hermione all but screamed, his measured and skilled stroke turning a fleeting moment of pain into excruciating and almost unbearable pleasure.

He stilled, searching her face.  Had he hurt her?

Hermione saw the look on his face, this wasn’t the time for Lucius Malfoy to become Mister Considerate. “Move” She practically hissed, tightening her legs around him, raising her hips and drawing him in deeper. He felt so good. He shouldn’t but he did, shamefully good.

He needed no second telling, withdrawing almost completely, only to thrust powerfully back into her, sheathing himself fully in her velvety heat over and over.  

Lucius had always prided himself on his control, but she was so tight and so wet, her inner walls clenching tighter around him with every thrust. He’d been wanting this since their first brief encounter. His tolerance threshold was being stretched to the very limit as it was, and then her fingers found their way back into his hair.  

Her lips catching his, her tongue plunging deeply into his mouth, Lucius was losing it. Her tongue mimicked the rhythm of his cock pounding into her, what was she doing to him?

Hermione could feel him fighting for control, control of his own body. She was loving what she was able to do to him and what he was doing to her. How he fucked her. Lucius Malfoy fucking her, the thought triggered something so carnal in Hermione’s brain. It went directly to where their bodies were joined. Her body floated to another level, as her orgasm began to build, every part of her gripping him tighter. Her inner muscles constricting around his rigid shaft. Her nails digging into the soft flesh on his back.

Rapt in her own pleasure, she felt his breathing become laboured, every part of him was hard and taut as he pushed harder into her. The guttural groan that fell from his lips was it. White light exploded around her, her mind and her body drowning in a sea of absolute pleasure. She was coming around him, as he came into her, so intensely she could feel his cock pulsating deep inside her and his seed spilling into her with a burning heat. The delicious sensation triggering another intense wave of orgasmic bliss. Something Hermione had never experienced before.

But then Hermione had never experienced anything like Lucius Malfoy before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your comments and Kudos. I am glad you are enjoying the story. I hope that this chapter and "the tour" came up to expectations.


	5. Like Father, Like Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being indiscreet with a school governor, shameful..........

 

Hermione didn’t want to relinquish her hold on the dark wizard. Not the fingers that were entwined in his ruffled hair. Not the legs that were wrapped around his waist, like devils snare. Not her aching inner muscles that still gripped his diminishing erection. But as their breathing slowly returned to normal and she felt his weight shift, she knew it was inevitable, as was the awkwardness that would no doubt ensue.

Lucius tilted her face up to look at him. His pupils still dilated, a very indulgent and satisfied smile curving his lips.

“It has been many years since I slept in a bed in this school.” He took in the rather surprised look on her flushed face. “And wickedly tempting as it would be, for many reasons, to spend a night in the Gryffindor Tower, I think perhaps we should return to the others.”

There was no awkwardness and Hermione was to say the least a little taken aback, by not only his demeanour but also his admission. Her experience with men, extremely limited as it was, she felt sure he would want to leave. Ron for the best part had just fallen asleep or preferred his own bed. There had only been one other man since they had parted, and admittedly Hermione had been the one to leave on that occasion. A tipsy night out on the rebound, didn’t mean she wanted to wake up with the guy.  

The thought of waking up in her small bed wrapped around Lucius Malfoy however, sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through her. She couldn’t repress a smile at the thought of walking into her Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, having just shagged the arse of a former Death Eater.

He was right of course though. They really should make their presence known to the others. It was easy enough to lose people in Hogwarts, but as the Chairman of the Governors, it would only be polite for Lucius to say goodnight to the Headmistress before leaving.  Reluctantly, very reluctantly she disentangled herself from him.

 

 

“Ah there you both are.” Said the familiar voice of Minerva McGonagall as they slipped, thankfully unnoticed, back into the entrance hall. 

Hermione glanced at Lucius Malfoy, a couple of quick charms before leaving her room and they had both been restored to their former pristine selves. He looking resplendent and imposing once more, in his dark robes, his hair back to its sleek blonde curtain, and his face as pale and unreadable as ever.

Had it not been for the throbbing ache between her legs, and the slight dampness her panties still bore, she would have found it impossible to believe she’d just had sex with the man.

Thanks to him, she too looked every inch the bright, senior Gryffindor. Although he had not replaced all of her clothing with the aid of magic.  She had been speechless and unsure how she’d restrained herself when he had insisted on slipping each stocking on himself.

On his knees, and with amazing dexterity, he slowly rolled the silky material up over her long limbs, pausing to ensure they were straight, before rising to his feet and fastening her tie.  It was only then Hermione had allowed herself to breathe, this time her body was trying to catch up with her brain. Lucius Malfoy on his knees was enough to process, but dressing her……….she could still feel his long fingers between her thighs as he adjusted the lacy tops. Her body throbbed at the recollection, she had wanted him again, right there and then. She wanted him now. 

She felt his hand at the base of her spine as they turned to face the headmistress.

“Indeed, Headmistress here were both are.” His voice was as calm and articulate as ever, giving nothing away.

Minerva McGonagall smiled at Hermione, clearly hoping Lucius Malfoy would elucidate. He didn’t.

“Were you quite satisfied Lucius?” She asked in all innocence.

Hermione flushed the colour of a remembrall and fiddled with her tie. Her flush deepening as she recalled Lucius’ fingers tightening the knot, tugging on it, and pulling her closer, before his lips had captured hers in soft, lingering kiss.

He predictably remained totally unperturbed, not a flicker of emotion crossed his face.  He fastidiously continued to pull on his gloves, gently tugging at the soft kid before smoothing his cloak down over them. He looked at Hermione before returning his attention to the older witch.

“Pleasantly so Headmistress. Miss Granger was quite a revelation.”

Hermione felt the heat in her face spreading.

“Very open and receptive” He continued. “She made it hard for me…” He paused wickedly, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve.

Hermione’s brown eyes widened, and she took a sharp intake of breath.

“To find any faults whatsoever. However…..”

The beam on Minerva McGonagall’s face wavered slightly.

“However, I feel that our time together was a little rushed and there is so much I haven’t yet seen.”

His devilish grey eyes passed over Hermione as he indicated the space around him.

 

“Well Lucius as the chair of the governors, it is your prerogative to come here whenever you choose. I am sure Miss Granger could be persuaded to avail herself, if you needed her.”

Hermione closed her eyes, he wasn’t going to let that go, she just knew it.

“That is very gracious of you Minerva. I have to say, coming here tonight was a thoroughly pleasurable and very gratifying experience, but I would not presume to take advantage of Miss Granger, I am sure she is very busy with her studies.”

Lucius Malfoy was an eloquent wordsmith, the Headmistress flushing with uncontained pleasure at his compliments, Hermione flushing with embarrassment at the actual meaning behind his words. Even if she was secretly delighted that “his coming had been a thoroughly pleasurable and very gratifying experience.” Her own body tingling at the memory.

 

Her recollections and their conversation were interrupted by the arrival of Draco and the supremely elegant Nemessia Fellows. Presumably she would be leaving, as she arrived, on the arm of his father.  Hermione felt the same pang of jealousy stab at her chest, this time with distinctly more ferocity. She chided herself, drawing her attention back to the younger Malfoy, who seemed a little distracted and flushed himself.  But then Draco never seemed at ease around his father.

 

Lucius offered Nemessia his arm, he bid a polite goodbye to his son. Thanked the Headmistress for a “surprisingly enlightening evening.” Before turning to Hermione.

His face was lacking any emotion, but his now, pale grey eyes were fixed on her: “Thank you, Miss Granger, for an edifying evening, it really was a pleasure.”

Hermione’s face like his, was devoid of emotion, playing to the crowd, just like him. Her warm brown eyes meeting his. “I am glad you enjoyed it Mr Malfoy, but the pleasure really was all mine.”

He nodded briefly, the merest hint of smile tugging at his lips and with that he left.  Nemessia Fellows talloned hand clinging tightly to his arm.

 

A rather overly excited Minerva McGonagall, clasped her hands together and thanked both Hermione and Draco for their efforts. Declaring the evening a resounding success, she went off muttering something about telling Severus how wrong he had been.

“Wouldn’t want to be in Snape’s shoes once she gets going.” Draco said laughing, as the pair watched her bustle off in the direction of the Dungeons.

“Don’t! I have a lesson with him first thing, he will be in an even worse mood than usual.”

They both laughed, Draco grabbing her arm; “Fancy a pumpkin juice Granger, think we have earned it”

A little surprised by his suggestion and taken aback by his good humour, Hermione none the less agreed, she could do with a distraction. Her room would smell of his father, her bed would still be rumpled and she didn’t want to think about him, going back to Malfoy Manor with the sophisticated Ms Fellows.

 

There were still a few students milling around in the Great Hall, the feast had long since gone and the decorations had vanished for another year. As always there were pitchers of permanently chilled pumpkin juice and beakers on the long tables. Draco guided Hermione to an empty table, seating them at the far end, he decanted some of the cool liquid.

“How was my father” He asked a carefully, studying her response.

Hermione felt her skin heat and took a sip of the chilled juice, a seamlessly innocuous question under normal circumstance, but she had a guilty conscience.

“The perfect gentleman” She replied with caution. Whatever Draco thought about his father, Hermione knew that years of breeding would not allow to him to be anything else. It was a safe enough answer.

“So…… sex with a school governor……..” He said matter-of-factly. His grey eyes twinkling wickedly just like his father’s.

Hermione thought her lungs were going to burst:  “What?” She managed to squeak trying to, swallow pumpkin juice, cough and breathe all at the same time. 

“Steady Granger” He said slapping her hard on the back, his lip curled in that infamous Malfoy smirk.

Hermione tried desperately to catch her breath and think at the same time. Multitasking wasn’t happening.  She swallowed hard, her eyes watering as she continued to cough.

How on earth could he know, had he seen them? No he couldn’t have. Hermione fought for breath as Draco continued to slap her roughly on the back.

“There’s a lot to be said for an older woman.” He said, his smirk morphing into a lascivious smile.

Hermione coughing began to subside and she managed to take a proper breath, her wide, tear filled eyes, meeting Draco’s. Her brain still screaming “WHAT” but finally catching on to what he was actually talking about. Himself!

“No!” She said in raspy tones, her throat sore. This really was too much information, but she found herself enthralled.

 “I think I might have even done something for once, which my father might actually approve of.” He continued a note of bitterness peppering his words.

Hermione felt a little gloom drift through her veins. Surely Draco hadn’t had sex, just to obtain his father’s approval; that was desperately sad.

Obviously, she knew the who, but the where and when certainly spiked her curiosity. As did the why, why he wanted to share his, dare she have the cheek to call it, indiscretion with her? 

“You didn’t where?” The question was out before she could stop herself, her voice still croaky. Hermione’s hand flew to her mouth, mortified at her own inquisitiveness. Draco shouldn’t be sharing such things with her, and she should hardly be interrogating him further.

Draco looked decidedly pleased with himself, Hermione wasn’t sure if it was down to the act itself or the fact that she was obviously interested. Clearly the phrase, a gentleman never tells, didn’t occur to the younger Malfoy, but she felt oddly certain that it was a code his father lived by.

“I am shocked Granger! You want the gory details.” He smiled, visibly feigning his astonishment, but itching to share.

Hermione had managed to gather her thoughts and her composure. Relieved that he had not discovered her own guilty secret, but now insanely curious as to why he was so intent on sharing his with her. 

“You can leave out the gory details Ferret, I get the picture” And she did, the image of his father looming over her, in the Gryffindor tower drifting across her mind.

“But……. well for whatever reason, you brought the subject up. What did you expect me to say…. oh that’s was nice. Finish my pumpkin juice and go to bed?”

Draco pulled a childish face at her, glossing over her prompt for a reason, but happy to impart a location:  “Snape’s old Potions storeroom.”

Hermione started to cough once more. Her brown eyes, again wide with incredulity, her stomach churning in both horror and relief. The fact that they were discussing Draco’s sexual exploits with a school governor and not her own, was evidently more by luck than judgement. 

The storeroom once used by Severus Snape, for his private supply of potions was located in the Tapestry Corridor, but a stone’s throw from the secret passageway that Hermione had taken his father down. 

Unable to speak safely, she shook her head in disbelief.

“Oh come on Granger wouldn’t you have?”

Despite herself, Hermione couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips or the sarcasm that she vented on her rather smug companion. “Well actually Draco, my proclivities don’t lean that way.”

“Oh you know what I mean.” His exasperation was apparent, but he kept his good humour.

Hermione couldn’t resist: “And you forget I was, how did you put it….. _lumbered_ with your father. I was hardly going to be overcome with an insatiable urge to drag him off to storeroom or anywhere else for that matter.”

She was getting rather used to deadpanning with the Malfoy men, Draco being a much easier subject than Lucius. His face was a picture, simply at the thought, Oh if only he knew……but then again, perhaps not!

“That’s an image I’d rather not have in my head thanks.”

Feisty as ever, Hermione’s discriminatory hackles rose defensively. “That’s a bit chauvinistic even for you Ferret. It’s ok for you to have sex with a woman almost twice your age, but I can’t.”

It was Draco’s turn at the sarcasm. “Hey Granger, you can have sex with a woman or a man three times your age if you want, just as long as it isn’t my father. That’s just gross.”

She laughed with more affability than she felt. Hermione didn’t let it show, but Draco’s words stung. She put them out of her head as she curled up in her bed, engulfed in the fading scent of Lucius Malfoy that lingered there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments and the kudos. I really am happy you are enjoying this story. I am having a lot of fun with it. As always I apologies for errors of any sort and hope you forgive me.


	6. Three Owls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The postman always ring twice, but in the world of Harry Potter ...... owls come in threes. I hope you enjoy a little deviation with this Chapter........

Hermione hardly ever received mail. The occasional owl from Harry, or one of the Weasley’s, usually Molly or Ginny; but that was about it.  Ron was as bad as ever, she counted herself lucky if he remembered her birthday. Despite not making it as a couple, she still loved him dearly, but he wasn’t going to change now.

This morning she was stunned when three owls flew in her direction.

The first moth eaten looking creature landed face down in her cereal. Milk dripping from its beak, it deposited the soggy note in front of her. Ron, she mused, sentimental fool, had got himself an owl related to Errol, the hapless old bird that had caused havoc during their second term. This one might not be old but it was clearly just as bad.

The owl which arrived next was almost identical to Hedwig, a dead giveaway as to the sender. She landed with proficiency, dropped her missive and left without any fuss, amidst a rustle of snowy white plumage.

The third arrival was a large, noble looking bird, it had huge claws and large piercing yellow eyes.  Landing directly in front of Hermione, it smoothed its mottled brown feathers regally. A thick piece of parchment clasped tightly in its cruel looking beak, which it refused to drop.  Pushing insistently at Hermione until she removed it personally. Her name was neatly emblazoned in black ink, penned with obvious flourish on the heavy stationery. On the reverse was a distinctive crest, the centrepiece of which was a large silver M.

Hermione looked around furtively, the last thing she needed was an interrogation from Draco, who was conspicuous by his absence this morning. She slipped the letter into the pocket of her robe, torn between wanting to rip it open immediately or saving it for later, when she knew she would not be disturbed, she opted for the latter.

Having recovered from its unceremonious landing, Ron’s owl had taken off in an equally haphazard fashion. Hermione had opened the note and started to read: “Mione”, notes from Ron were only every addressed using her old school nickname, when it was going to be something she wouldn’t like. True to form, it turned out that the entire Weasley clan were heading overseas for Christmas. Joining Charlie who was evidently studying some “new” dragons in Canada.

Hermione usually alternated her Christmas holidays between, the Weasley’s and Harry, if they were not all together. It looked like it was just her and Harry this year then…….

Opening the letter from Harry it appeared, that he had been asked to guest lecture in Europe. Ginny had decided not to join her own family in Canada and was going to accompany him. They had decided to incorporate a trip of their own, making the most of a family free Christmas. Ending up with a romantic stay in Paris for Christmas itself and then spending New Year in Switzerland, before returning home. They both hoped she wouldn’t mind.

She patted the unopened letter in her pocket. Three letters, two lots of depressing news, things tended to come in threes. The other letter would definitely wait until later to be opened, she could only deal with so much disappointment before 8.30 in the morning.

So it was either to be Christmas at Hogwarts, with little or no one for company, or her equally lonely flat in London, decisions, decisions, she thought miserably. Oh well it was only the 1st November, she had plenty of time to decide which thrilling option to take.

An annoyingly cheerful Draco joined her moments later. Presumably still on a high from his exertions with Nemessia Fellows the previous evening. He grinned at her like the proverbial Cheshire cat, tucking into an unusually large breakfast.

“What’s up Granger?” He queried amiably. “Thinking about Snape’s foul mood?”

Under her _deluge_ of post Hermione had forgotten all about the mood she and Draco had imaged the irascible Professor would be in this morning; following what was sure to have been a volley of “I told you so’s from Minerva McGonagall. Today was going to be a real peach.

“No actually I was just wondering whether to spend Christmas here on my own or alternatively alone in my flat, difficult decision.”

She glanced over at Draco, she hadn’t meant to sound quite so morose or look quite so dejected. Mouth full of toast and unable to speak, he raised a questioning eyebrow, clearly wanting her to elaborate. Such a chipper Draco Malfoy was disconcerting at the best of times, but so bloody early in the morning was impossible!

Not wanting to appear a total loser, Hermione now made light of the situation. “Oh don’t mind me. I just got a couple of owls from Harry and Ron.  I usually spend Christmas with one or the other.” She explained briefly. “But it appears they are both deserting me this year.”

She fiddled with the edge of the parchment, as Draco chomped on yet another slice of toast.

“It would appear that Vancouver Island and Paris are the in places to be this December.”

“Spend it with me” He offered offhandedly. “Us” He amended munching on the crispy bread.

Hermione looked at him completely dumfounded. He had to be kidding, opening her mouth to speak, she found nothing came out. Thankfully, Draco emptied his mouth, before continuing to speak.

“We’ve been rubbing along ok all term here. No reason why we shouldn’t do the same elsewhere.”

That was very true she thought. In fact other than the little incident before the Halloween Feast, she and Draco had hardly had a cross word.  They still didn’t have the same friendship or relationship, she had with Harry and Ron, but they shared things, they would not have imagined, and even spent a lot of their free time in each other’s company.

“We’d be doing each other a favour” He continued, noticing Hermione’s puzzled expression, he explained. “I rescue you from a boring Hogwarts or a lonely flat. You rescue me from being stuck at Malfoy Manor, with my father.”

Hermione still found herself struggling for words as Draco rose to his feet.

“Shouldn’t you ask your father first?” She heard herself saying.

“It’s my home too.” Came the short and somewhat bitter retort. “Think about it, let me know.” He called over his shoulder, exiting the Great Hall, leaving Hermione alone at the table, her head spinning.

This really had been a totally surreal few hours. Had Draco Malfoy really invited Hermione Granger home for the Christmas Holiday? She must be dreaming, her alarm clock would surely go of at any moment. When it didn’t, Hermione allowed herself to consider the implications of his invitation. Could she return to Malfoy Manor after what had happened to her there? Could she return to Malfoy Manor after what had happened with his father? 

Hermione patted the unopened note, tucked into her pocket. Glancing around, she withdrew it slowly.  Running her finger over the crest, she slipped it open.  A little frisson of unease danced along her spine.

 There was one word written in the same elegant script, followed by a question mark.

“Regrets?”

Hermione’s heart thundered in her chest, she wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, she was just certain it wasn’t this. She quickly tore a page from her notebook, scribbling on the jagged blank parchment: “Je ne regrette rien!”

She just had time to get to the owlery before her first class.

 

The first snows of winter fell early. It had been bitterly cold since the beginning of November, and as the month drew to a close the temperature rose slightly, bringing with it a thick, crisp layer of snow.  

Hogsmeade looked like a scene from a Muggle Christmas card, fluffy white snow coating the roofs and sills of its small shops and cottages. Saturday afternoons were always busy in the small wizarding town. The local’s numbers swelled by the students from Hogwarts on day trips, today was no exception.

 

Hermione had been happily curled up in the Gryffindor common room, the fire burning brightly, as she completed yet another paper for Professor Snape. A second year had come rushing in, looking distinctly dewy eyed, informing her that Draco Malfoy wanted to speak to her. His name falling somewhat wistfully from the young witch’s lips, her cheeks blushing prettily. Hermione thanked her, remembering her first crush; those wonderful moments when the object of your desire spoke to you, even if it was only to ask you to get out of the way, and your heart had flip flopped in your chest. How your stomach had churned, when they inadvertently brushed against you. 

Her own heart flip flopped and her stomach lurched at the thought of her current object of desire. The other Malfoy.

 

Draco, had been at a Quidditch match, he was still dressed for the outdoors and twisted Hermione’s arm to accompany him to Hogsmeade. Merlin alone knew why, as about half an hour after they arrived, Draco had scuttled furtively off to the Three Broomsticks, telling her, there was something he needed to do!

“More like someone” Hermione had muttered under her breath, watching as he disappeared in the direction of the Pub, come inn that was a focal point of the small town.

If the truth be told she envied him. What she wouldn’t have given for an afternoon of illicit passion with his father, curled up in a small, most likely uncomfortable bed in the upstairs of the pub. Heat burned her chilled skin, as she remembered their brief time together. The recollection no longer quite so vivid.

Hermione sighed dejectedly, she hadn’t heard from Lucius Malfoy since she had replied to his owl. Perhaps Draco had told his father of his plans for Christmas and Lucius wasn’t happy about it.  Well happy about it or not, Hermione had made up her mind.

She had already put so much behind her in such a short space of time, things changed and so did people. It was a lot easier if you moved with the changes rather than allowing them to change around you. Life was a lot simpler with that way and a lot more fun, as she had come to appreciate.

Hermione didn’t want to spend Christmas alone, either at Hogwarts or in London. With that in mind, she needed to pick up a couple of extra presents, it was only polite to take a gift for her friend; how strange that sounded in itself! And of course her host. Having been duly deserted by Draco, this seemed like the perfect opportunity.  She wasn’t in the same league as the Malfoy’s but she could still manage something acceptable.  Draco had been whinging about his quill for the last few weeks, so she wandered into Scrivenshafts.

A plethora of quills, all shapes, sizes and colours stretched before her. Some very plain and simple, others charmed with intricate spells. She went further into the deceptively large shop, row upon row of quills lining the shelves, and on display.

 

The not overly long, beautifully curled, vibrant green and silver grey feather, apparently came from a tropical parquet of some kind. Hermione didn’t particularly care about it origins, it was the colouring which had caught her eye, making it perfect for Draco. She purchased it before going off in search of something, hopefully, equally as suitable for his father.  Of course Lucius Malfoy would have a perfectly good quill, quite likely to have been very expensive or even a family heirloom. But it was the thought that counted. In the Muggle world, men who were difficult to buy for usually ended up with a pen or socks for Christmas. She smiled to herself at the thought of giving Lucius a lurid selection of the latter from Gladrags Wizardwear.

 

Hermione had caught her hair in a high pony tail before leaving Hogwarts that morning.  It would reduce frizzing in the event of more snow and also enable her to tuck it quickly and easily into her hat if she needed to.  Her neck was bare, and as she continued to browse the array of beautiful quills, she felt something brush over her exposed skin.  She raised an unconcerned hand to flick it away, assuming it was merely an escaped tendril of hair. A moment or two elapsed before she felt the sensation again. This time the tickling motion caused her to scratch at her neck.

“La plume de ma tente.” Said a familiar, hushed voice from behind her. His aristocratic English tones making the simple schoolboy French phrase sound ridiculously sexy.

He continued to stroke, what she assumed was a quill feather across her bare skin. Extending her neck at its sensuousness, but not turning to face him.

“I am impressed with your French Mr Malfoy.” She teased, closing her eyes and revelling in the delicious feel of the silky plume.

She felt his lips brush her nape, then they were at her ear, his warm breath against her cheek.

“I recall very little from my youth, the odd phrase. French wasn’t really my subject” He whispered.

Hermione struggled to form a coherent sentence, as the dark wizard once more invaded her senses with lightning speed, the tiny actions filling her with an all-consuming need.

“Mmmm, that one was very useful.” She assured him playfully.

“How about, Voulez vous coucher avec moi?” He all but purred.

Another schoolboy favourite, Hermione mused, nonetheless shivering at his words and their implications.

 

In a swift movement, Lucius Malfoy pulled her to him. Her back flush against the hard wall of his chest. She writhed against the luscious feel of him, her bum rubbing his groin. Even through her own clothing and his thick robes, she could already feel the potency of his arousal.  Hermione gasped at the totally unexpected contact, loving the feel of him, and simply that he was here. Heat pooled between her legs, forgetting where they were, she ached for him to touch her. 

One hand slipped beneath her clothing, his long fingers brushing over the flat plane of her stomach, Hermione became vaguely aware of him moving his wand, presumably casting some sort of disillusionment charm, shielding them from others.

That this man, of all people, was able to bring her to this so quickly, was quite frightening. Adrenalin raced around her body, touching every part of her and making her heart beat rapidly.  Her own responses to him were equally as startling, she had never been so overwhelmed by such blatant sexual desire before. There was _that side_ of her again, the _side_ that was uniquely his.

She wanted to turn around, wrap her legs around him, bury her hands in that long silky hair of his and her tongue deep in his mouth. She wanted him buried deep inside her. But he kept her firmly restrained against him.  As the button and zipper on her jeans were released, one hand delved into the burning, damp heat of the knickers beneath. She arched against his fingers, aching to feel them between her wet folds, before pushing back hard against his straining erection.

She heard him moan against her ear, Hermione’s arms went back, trying to pull him closer.  His mouth sucked on the bare flesh of her neck, nipping and pulling at her skin, his long flaxen hair tumbling over her shoulder.  She squirmed against him, abrading her arse and the layers of material against his swollen flesh.

Merlin, if she carried on like this thought Lucius, he would cum in his pants. The notion was a tad adolescent, if not unappealing.

Hermione flung her head back against his shoulder as his free hand dipped into her simple cotton bra, pinching a taunt nipple. His skilled fingers eliciting maximum pleasure as he rolled the swollen bud between his thumb and forefinger. His other hand slid deeper into her knickers, driving her legs apart, the action causing the material of her jeans to tighten across his hand, pushing it closer to her body. They moved dexterously within the confined space, curling up to find what they were seeking. Her flowing juices coated his probing fingers, a whimper escaped her lips as he slid them back and forth over the tight bundle of nerves, the rest of her body singing in appreciation. 

Hermione reached behind, her small hand coming into contact with sheathed arousal. He was hot and very hard. There was nothing tentative about her first touch, she palmed his cock through the thick fabric, earning her a guttural groan.  She couldn’t get to the zipper to free him, so made the most of her hand and her arse.  Tracing the throbbing flesh with her fingers, touching the outline of the head and feeling a small patch of moisture dampen the expensive material. She pressed her arse as hard as she could against him. Feeling his strong fingers press into her own throbbing heat.

Her bare outer lips felt glorious, her arousal making them silky smooth to the touch, his fingers gliding over them. Giving him the most exquisite access to her femininity, allowing them to slide easily into her, as far as the confines of clothing would allow, that was.  She rubbed mercilessly against him, the friction of his heavy woollen trousers, coupled with her surprisingly firm and nimble hand was driving him unbelievably quickly to the point of no return. 

The last time Lucius Malfoy had been in a position like this, he had been younger than his son was now. These were the actions, let alone the reactions of a horny teenager, not a man of his age and experience.  Maybe that was it, it had been too long since he had allowed himself to behave like this, enjoy something simply for what is was. The taboo of the entire situation, was firing his arousal.

One thing was certain he couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed such wanton carnal pleasure.

When Lucius had spotted Hermione disappearing into Scrivenshaft’s, yes, he had followed her into the quill shop, but it really had been his intention to invite her to join him for tea, or perhaps a drink.

He had observed her surreptitiously for a few moments. Watching her move from one quill to another, carefully making her selection, checking the fineness of the nib and caressing the silky feathers. His pale grey eyes had fallen on her creamy neck, and he imagined tracing one of the jet black plumes across its milky expanse. He envisaged it moving down her smooth back, across her high breasts, tickling her flat stomach and teasing her glistening sex.  He’d felt his trousers tighten instantly, almost painfully, and any thoughts of tea or a Firewhiskey had completely vanished from his mind. As she moved to the charmed quills at the rear of the shop he had followed her.  

Her breathing became more erratic, Lucius fought to keep his own breathing in check as her impending orgasm pushed her more forcibly against him, her small fingers almost biting into his cock.

Hermione rubbed herself harder against the solid wall of taut muscle that was Lucius Malfoy. Even clothed he felt so good, she wanted more of him. She could feel every throbbing inch of flesh beneath her fingers, aching to touch him properly, feel his silky skin in her hand.  His fingers were sweet torture as they slipped into her soaking body, his thumb stroking her seam. She desperately sought friction and release. Even within such confines his touch was light but assured, this was a man who knew how to handle a woman, how to provoke the response they both desired.

She arched back, twisting against him, every movement grinding against his shaft. With exquisite precision his fingers moved firmly but sensuously over her, Hermione melted into her rapidly building pleasure.

“Venu pour moi.” He said in a breathless whisper against her ear.

The soft, dark sound of his voice sent her hurtling over the edge. Her muscles tightening around his fingers, her hand fiercely palming his still sheathed flesh, as she drowned in wave after wave of crushing ecstasy.

The rough wool of the material grazing against his sensitised flesh, and her delicate but firm hand tightening around him was more than he could take. His own climax was hot and sticky, as it pulsed and coated his inner thigh.

Lucius felt, Hermione slump against him, just about managing to stay upright himself, after his astonishingly powerful orgasm. He held her tightly against him, waiting for her breathing to return to normal. 

She finally straightened, turning to face him for the first time.

His handsome features bore a slight flush, _her_ little muscle in his jaw was doing the fandango. She lightly traced her finger over it, feeling it pulsing to her touch.  She couldn’t resist, stretching up and brushing her lips gently to his.

“Your French really is very good.” She said against his mouth, before removing her wand from her pocket, and repaying the favour of a cleansing charm, returning them both to their pristine selves.

Lucius Malfoy looked at the extraordinary young woman before him, almost in disbelief. A wicked smile suddenly curving his sensual mouth:

“I shall look forward to having you for Christmas Miss Granger.”

 

This disillusionment charm lifted, he left amidst his now signature rustle of robes and waft of exotic cologne.  Leaving Hermione wondering just what he had been doing in Hogsmeade on a snowy Saturday afternoon, but in no doubt, which quill she was going gifting him for Christmas.

 

By the time Hermione started back to the Three Broomsticks to meet Draco, the snow had once again begun to fall. The pub was even busier than usual for a Saturday, no doubt the falling snow had driven a few more customers into its warmth. Draco was sitting in the corner hunched over a Butterbeer.

Odd, thought Hermione, she had fully expected to find him in an obnoxiously good mood, following an afternoon of, Merlin knew what with the elegant Ms Fellows. Perhaps she hadn’t shown up or she had dumped him. Hermione reigned in her own obnoxiously good mood and made her way over to the dejected looking Draco.

“Hey ferret” She said in her usual easy manner.  “Did you do, what you needed to do?”

He ran a hand through his already slightly rumpled blonde hair. A guilty smile lifting his lips and his eyes twinkling mischievously. He was about to speak, his smile suddenly vanishing and his bright eyes clouding.

Over the various aromas in the pub, a familiar scent wafted to Hermione’s nostrils, without turning around, she immediately understood the reason for Draco’s sour mood. Drawn almost instinctively towards the intoxicating scent, Hermione turned, coming face to face with Lucius Malfoy.

“Miss Granger!”

Every time he said her name in that almost condescending tone, Hermione felt like she was 12 years old again.  The way her body now responded to those dulcet tones was however nothing like a 12 year old, her senses already heightened by his presence.

He placed his drink, of what she assumed was Firewhiskey on the table; “May I get you something” He offered.

Hermione cast a glance in Draco’s direction, he had a full tankard of Butterbeer, they were going nowhere anytime soon, and to say no would be churlish.  He shrugged his shoulders in a “whatever” type gesture.

Hermione looked into Lucius’ face, as unreadable as ever, he waited patiently for her response.  An excited couple rushed by Hermione, knocking her forward, they shouted their apologies as they dashed out into the snow. Hermione once again found herself back in the arms of the dark wizard, flush against that hard wall of muscle, she felt his body stir beneath her, a gentle hiss escaping his lips.  She extricated herself quickly from his grasp, glancing towards Draco. He was looking sulkily into his beer, the brief incident seemingly having gone unnoticed.

“The same as Draco please, a Butterbeer.”

She gave him an almost knowing smile, as he too glanced at his sulky son, before heading back to the bar.

Hermione took the seat next to Draco, nudging him with her elbow, the younger Malfoy finally looked at her.

“Sorry Granger, he should have been gone by the time you got here. But my father, being my father, thought as you were going to be _his_ guest for Christmas, a sociable drink now would be nice beforehand.”

Draco mimicked his father’s voice, frighteningly well as it happened and she couldn’t help but laugh.  Lucius did have a point she thought, but agreeing with him might not be the wisest thing to do. She looked sympathetically at his son.

“Actually” Draco continued reluctantly. “He’s quite right, as per bloody usual, I mean other than the Halloween Feast, you two haven’t really spoken or anything.”

Hermione hoped Draco didn’t notice the heat that suffused her face, in the dimly lit pub. He was quite right, she and Lucius hadn’t really spoken, but as for the anything, well that was another story.

“I just wasn’t prepared to spend time with him.” The young blonde said, shrugging his shoulders once more.

Hermione forgot about her discomfort. “Draco, he’s your father, not an Auror inquisition, you don’t need to prepare for him.”

She bit down sharply on her lip, realising what she had said. Three steamy encounters with the elder Malfoy did not give her the right to lecture his son, that was overstepping the boundaries, but to her utter amazement Draco smiled. 

“I think that’s the first time you’ve called me by my name all term Granger.” He took a swig of his drink, the smile still tugging at his lips.

 “And yes I know that, but……” He caught sight of his father heading back to them and said simply “It’s complicated”.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for some lovely comments and Kudos. I am not sure how many chapters this will be, but as long as inspiration strikes I will continue to write. I also hope you will forgive a Harry Potter novice any inaccuracies or timeline slips.


	7. Remembrance of Things Past, Good & Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Hermione returns to Malfoy Manor under very different circumstances...........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for comments and kudos. 
> 
> I am a little nervous about this chapter. As a relative newbie to the world of Harry Potter, I hope it comes up to scratch and that you continue to enjoy it.
> 
> As always I apologise for errors, grammatical or otherwise.

“Portkey or train?” Draco asked Hermione mysteriously, as the Hogwarts Express pulled into Kings Cross Station.

“What?”

“We can either travel from here to the Manor by Portkey or by train, just wondered if you had a preference. Portkey is quicker of course”.

“I didn’t know we could travel anywhere else by train.”

 “Something you don’t know Granger! Is this a first?” Draco feigned shock, opening his mouth and clasping a dramatic hand to his chest.

“Enough with the sarcasm Ferret, spill”.

“There are just a few. They run between here and the big, old wizarding family homes in the country. Ours is of course one of them.  My father likes to travel to the Ministry by train, it’s less stressful and more befitting.”

He once again mimicked his father’s voice with malicious accuracy.

“As always, he is of course right. I have to admit its nice way to travel. All we have to do is maintain the concealment charm along with the Ministry.”

Curiosity got the better of Hermione, travelling by portkey was almost as bad as apparating. Lucius definitely had a point.

“Train it is then, let’s see how the other half lives.”

Her jibe earned Hermione a Malfoy sneer, albeit a playful one. Their friendship having changed yet again over the last few weeks. Prompting Hermione to ask Draco one evening, if that meant, he had morphed into Harry and Ron or she into Crabbe and Goyle. The two had ached from laughing, Hermione had had tears rolling down her cheeks. Causing Professor Snape to enquire, “What Mr Malfoy had said to upset Miss Granger?” The Defence of The Dark Arts Master had not been amused at their howling with laughter at him and had promptly given them both detention. Seniors or not!

 

She and Draco walked to the very end of Platform 9¾.  A small singular carriage, powered by a tiny steam engine awaited them. It was like a miniature version of the Hogwarts Express.

Dark green in colour, it bore the Malfoy coat of arms on its meticulously maintained paintwork. With somewhat uncharacteristic chivalry, Draco opened the door for her to board, it was a gesture very reminiscent of his father, Hermione mused.

How the other half lives, was right. The small carriage was ridiculous in its luxury. Hermione felt as if she had stepped into another world. Somehow she imagined, that was how the next few days were going to be.

Unsurprisingly bedecked in shades of green and silver, the carriage boasted four armchair like seats. The thick upholstery was protected by antimacassars, all of which had a small silver M embossed in the corner.  A table was set to the highest standard between the four seats, crystal glasses sparkled and delicate china gleamed, on a pristine white table cloth.

“Err, how long exactly is the journey to Malfoy Manor?” Hermione asked.

“About an hour and half.” Draco replied, clearly a little caught off guard by her question. “Why?”

Hermione took in the beautiful carriage, she could see why Lucius found this less stressful and even why Draco had said, in what was proving to be a gross understatement, this was a _nice_ way to travel.

“R..i..g..h..t” She said smiling at the lavishness for such a short journey.  But then she couldn’t imagine Lucius Malfoy having it any other way.

Draco made himself comfortable in one of the chairs; “My father made one or two adjustments.” He waved his hand around. “Not that I mind. Good choice Granger.”

 “Shame it’s such a short journey, hardly long enough to enjoy it.”

A self-propelling tea pot appeared and she took a seat opposite Draco.

 

When they had boarded the train at Hogsmeade, Hermione had been quiet and filled with trepidation. Spending an hour in the Three Broomsticks, trapped between father and son had proved testing enough. Being in the company of either one, individually was easy enough. Even if she and Lucius had not exactly exchanged much in the way of conversation. There hadn’t really been much need. Hermione had looked away, feeling her face burn.

She and Draco had miraculously, and against all odds become friends. She had the distinct feeling, if the twain met, that wouldn’t remain the case for very long.   Eleven days at Malfoy Manor, what had she been thinking, she had to have been out of her mind to accept Draco’s offer. 

She glanced over at the young blonde, he was dozing against the window. Hermione was genuinely apprehensive about the upcoming few days. She didn’t want to get caught between her friend and whatever Lucius Malfoy was. She didn’t want to get caught period. Had this really been such a good idea?

 

The last time she had been at the dark, foreboding house, buried deep in the Wiltshire countryside, she had been tortured. Of course she knew that wouldn’t be the case this time, the only torment she was likely to endure this time around, was not being able to get her hands on the Master of The House. Her face flushed at the unbridled thought and she scolded herself for thinking such things.

She managed to put all of the thoughts out of her mind, and began to relax a little, when Draco had surprisingly, shared a few tales of Malfoy Christmas pasts with her.

Before the war, and his mother’s departure, Malfoy Manor had apparently been the place to be for Christmas. His parents throwing a party for friends on Christmas Eve. Hermione smiled as Draco told her when he was very small he would sit on the huge staircase and just watch in awe, until one or other of his parents spotted him and would banish him back to bed.  She found her heart lurching inexplicably in her chest at the thought of Lucius scooping his small son up in his arms and taking him back to his nursery.

It was difficult to picture Lucius, Narcissa and Draco sharing Christmas lunch, just as she and her parents had done in happier times.  Her brain struggling with the idea of Lucius, carving the turkey or his striking wife, setting fire to a Christmas pudding. But as Draco continued with his tales, she realised that they clearly enjoyed the day together, just as any other family did.

According to Draco, The Malfoy’s New Year’s Eve Masquerade Ball was one of the highlights of the Wizarding World social season. Hermione didn’t need to stretch her imagination very far to picture that.

 

By the time they actually arrived at Malfoy Manor it was dark, and with the darkness, came the terrifying remembrances of things past.

As they moved through the heavy wrought iron gates, surrounded on either side by tall neatly manicured hedges, Hermione was transported back to that fateful night when she had been tortured by Draco’s psychopathic aunt. The gravel crunched beneath their feet as they moved towards the house, it loomed out of the night. The fears that she had long since buried, resurfaced. Draco’s stories were all but forgotten, and the imposing building filled her with a sense of dread. Her blood thundered around her body and it took everything she had not to turn and run.

To her astonishment, Hermione felt a warm hand clasp her own icy cold one, moving her through the outer wards and towards the huge wooden front door, which swung open as they approached.

“It’s OK” Said Draco quietly, his thin fingers tightening around her own. “There is nothing to be frightened off, not anymore.”

He looked as if he was going to say something else, but didn’t.

Hermione gave him a weak smile. She had made friends with Draco Malfoy. With his help she had overcome her fear of flying. She could put the horror of some bricks and mortar behind her, she could do this. And again, extraordinarily he was the one helping her.

 

The entrance hall was nothing like the dingy, foreboding room that Hermione remembered.  In fact it was quite the opposite. A bright almost welcoming space, it was dominated by a sumptuous carpet that covered the stone floor and a massive Christmas tree, which appeared to be the source of most of the light. Hermione looked over at Draco, who still tightly clasped her hand, he looked almost as surprised as she did.

A sudden pop heralded the arrival of a house elf, it was closely followed by two similar sounds and a further two of the small creatures appeared. The first elf addressed Draco.

“Welcome home young Master Draco.” He said politely “The Master is not home. He said that you were not to neglect your guest and that he will try to be home for dinner but cannot guarantee this”

“Like I was going to leave you on the driveway” Draco muttered irritably and Hermione squeezed his fingers.

The small creature coughed, and Hermione got the distinct impression it did not like being interrupted, but would never dare to say so.

“Go on.” Draco prompted sharply.

“Thank you Young Master Draco.”

It was as if the house elf had been given a list of things to say, and it had to relay them to Draco verbatim. Clearly it would not be happy until that had been done. Hermione fought the urge to laugh as Young Master Draco listened impatiently.

 

“Master said, we had to decorate the house like we did when the Mistress was here. That has been done.” The small creature’s huge brown eyes indicated the room around them, before returning once more to Draco. “The Master also said to tell you and Miss Granger.”

Hermione got a nervous smile from the small elf, when he mentioned her name.

“That there would be a drinks party tomorrow evening, like there used to be and that guests would start arriving about 6.30pm”

Hermione tried to repress a smile, she could just picture Lucius dictating all of this information to the hapless elf and the tiny creature absorbing it all.

“Thank you Raffy, I….”

“There is more Young Master Draco.” The uncomfortable looking elf tugged on its ugly clothing. Plainly sensing that the Young Master was becoming increasingly impatient with the list of messages from The Master. “Master also said that Livy is to look after Miss Granger, and that if she needs anything she only has to ask. Master has instructed that she sleep in the family wing and a room has been aired and made ready for her.”

Draco remained silent, a small flicker of surprise had crossed his face, but he didn’t seem in the least bit perturbed by any of the instructions or information. Unlike Hermione. The thought of having a house elf running around after her was bad enough, but sleeping the family wing of the house. She didn’t want to offend anyone, but this was all too much.

 

“Oh no I don’t need any special treatment and I certainly don’t need anyone looking after me”

Raffy looked horrified and began to pull painfully on his large ears. The two elves that had accompanied him, one of whom she assumed was Livy, also looked mortified and shuffled uncomfortably, pulling at their equally hideous gowns, which resembled torn pillowcases.  

“Granger, unless you want the elves to suffer the wrath of my father, and iron or boil bits of themselves I suggest you just accept what has been decided.”

Hermione looked at him in horror and then back at the three, terrified looking elves. 

“Ok Ok, but…”

“No buts, this is Malfoy Manor, things get done a little differently around here.” There was a slight edge to his voice but he smiled at Hermione and pointed her in the direction of Livy.

“Go unpack, and settle in, if my father isn’t going to be around for dinner, we can slum it and eat in the Kitchen, much more fun and cosier.”

Much as she wanted to, Hermione didn’t argue, she wasn’t afraid to argue with Draco, but the thought of the small creatures inflicting harm on themselves or suffering at the hands of Lucius Malfoy, because of her was not something she wanted to be responsible for. She followed Livy up the large central staircase.

 

Much to Hermione’s disappointment, Lucius Malfoy wasn’t back in time for dinner, so she and Draco had their meal in the kitchen. Just as he had predicted it was cosy. The fun part came from Draco tormenting the house elves. Magically moving things around or making them disappear.  Eating things and then saying he hadn’t had any. Hermione shook her head at his childish antics. No wonder he was so pleased when Lucius hadn’t arrived back at the manor. She doubted he would tolerate such behaviour at his dinner table. Apparently, he had been held up at the Ministry of Magic, according to a very brief flue call with his son earlier.

“I know he was just checking up on me.” Draco said tucking into large helping of profita rolls, served by the third elf, from earlier in the day, whose name was Chilty.

“I am quite capable of looking after my own guests.” He grumbled petulantly. “Of course I doubt that it is up to Lucius Malfoy’s standards.” His voice took on the resentful tone if usually did when he was talking about his father.

 

Hermione was inordinately curious about Draco’s relationship with his father, well both of his parents really. She wanted to know what “it’s complicated” meant. But it was the one subject, she never broached or pushed him on. If he volunteered information, she would ask very guarded questions but she always trod extremely carefully. As their friendship developed, she had become a little braver, her questions were a little more pointed, and she wasn’t afraid to make the occasional observation.  She was about to make one of those observations, when Draco continued to speak.

“I’ve never really come to up my father’s standards, or expectations come to that”. His voice was laced with bitterness.

Hermione didn’t know whether to say something or just listen.  She opted for the latter.

“I suppose in fairness to him, I’ve never really done anything to make him proud of me.  My mother leaving made it worse. I felt responsible for that too.”

Draco looked dejectedly into his bowl, moving the spoon distractedly, it clattered against the delicate china.

Although stunned by his sudden admissions and uncertain what to say. Hermione decided if she was brave enough to walk back into this house again, she was brave enough to walk this path too.

“Draco” She began firmly, trying to convey more confidence than she felt at this moment. “Other than a handful of brief encounters with your father.”

Hermione felt the familiar rush of heat suffuse her body, she ignored it and went on.

“I don’t know him. But the one thing I do know about him is, he is an adult, and for all of his faults and failings, he would not hold you responsible for your mother leaving. I am definitely no expert when it comes to relationships, especially not a relationship like your parents had, but he probably felt more anger at himself than at you, maybe he still does.  My Mum said, you always hurt the ones you love. I think that’s true, simply because we know they will forgive us. ”

Draco didn’t look at her, he didn’t say anything. His face was unreadable as he continued staring into the now empty bowl.

“Perhaps……” She began tentatively, finally meeting Draco’s pale blue eyes across the table. “Perhaps, you judge him too harshly.” She continued quickly. “I don’t know anything about your relationship, but I really do believe he only wants the best for you, he always has.  Maybe he has a funny way of showing it, but it’s the only way he knows how.”

Hermione waited for the “and what would you know about it” or the scrapping of a chair across the stone floor as Draco stormed off. Neither came.  He simply looked at her, as if it was a notion that had never occurred to him.  But then if he didn’t talk to his father, or to anyone else for that matter, why would it. If Draco was as constrained by the same years of breeding, and lack of showing too much emotion, as Lucius, then it probably hadn’t.  

Taking advantage of his silence, Hermione went on.

“You were spoiled rotten as a kid.” She said boldly, seeing a flicker of resentment crossing his face at her words.

“You got everything you wanted. That was probably how your father was encouraged as a child too, not with words, or affectionate gestures.”

Hermione took a deep breath, talking to Draco was one thing, asking him questions about his relationship with Lucius, was unchartered and possibly dangerous territory.

“Have you ever told him how you feel, what you think?”

The disdainful snort that emanated from Draco, was not the reaction Hermione was expecting, his empty laughter reverberated around the room. “Talk to my father about how I feel? Tell him what I think? You do remember that my father is Lucius Malfoy.”

Hermione was a little exasperated. Her friendship with Draco was nothing like the one she shared with Harry, she couldn’t be as blunt, she would need to use a different tack, to get her argument across.

“You could say the same about us.” She saw a little glimmer of interest flare in his pale face. “I bet you thought the same about me, talk to Granger, tell her how I feel, but you have. How am I so different?”

She saw him raise a slightly amused eyebrow, seeing his point, comparing herself to Lucius Malfoy was a tad beyond the realms of credence, but she carried on regardless.

“We could have carried on the way we always had, hating each other, being nasty and spiteful. But we got to know each other, and unless someone used a memory charm on me, that was mostly down to you.  However it came about, and for whatever the reasons, we took the time and here I am spending Christmas at Malfoy Manor.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed and he ran his fingers through his hair testily. Hermione swallowed nervously, had she gone too far. His face became a little sad and then the tiniest hint of a smile curved his mouth.

“Hmm, you sound like my mother, she was always telling me to just talk to my father, to try and understand him. That he…….that he did love me.”

Hermione was taken aback and in more ways than one. Being compared to his mother was scary enough in itself, but being told in a roundabout way, that maybe she had a point was positively disturbing, but It gave Hermione courage, even if she did feel like she were about to light a Muggle firework, light blue touch paper and stand well back………..

“Draco its Christmas, goodwill to all men and all that, I think that includes Lucius Malfoy. Your father is obviously making an effort. I know this is your home too, but he has graciously allowed me to be here, and is extending me every curtesy. You said yourself it’s been years since you’d seen the Manor decorated for Christmas like this, AND you told me those stories about the happy Christmases you all had. Why don’t you make a little effort of your own, what harm can it do?”

Again she waited for the heated words or the explosion of temper, or both, again they didn’t come. Again Draco viewed her from across the table. She felt she had pushed the boundaries as far as she could for one night and didn’t want to risk actually upsetting or angering him.

 “I think your father has a point about how you treat your guests though. I am sure good manners would have prevented him from eating ALL of the profita rolls.” Hermione frowned at him, her brown eyes twinkling.

Draco’s faced changed from one of consternation to horror as he looked at the empty bowl in front of him. “Merlin, Granger, it’s true I’ve morphed in Weaslebee!”

She breathed a sigh of relief at his retort, and they both laughed, lightening the atmosphere in the room immediately.

Hermione was unable to stifle a yawn. They’d spent the best part of the day travelling and it had one way and another been quite an emotional rollercoaster of an evening. She was tired. But she was also itching to soak in the huge tub, in the bathroom that adjoined her bedroom.

Her mind, as well as her body, was already in her pyjamas, curled up on the bed the size of her dorm at Hogwarts, with the rather raunchy best seller she had picked up in a Muggle bookshop at the start of term.

“Go to bed Granger, it’s been a long day.” He said no more about their conversation. “We apparently have a party tomorrow and of course my father will be home.” He rolled his eyes. “But………as you have proved such a smart arse, and know it all in the past, I guess you do have a point.” He added one of his childish faces for good measure.

Through her fatigue Hermione was flabbergasted, but she kept her response light.

“Don’t you know it Ferret!” Hermione returned the juvenile humour poking her tongue out at him, before bidding him goodnight and making for her tub. Her mind still reeling from their surprising and enlightening exchange.


	8. An Interesting Read

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are 10 more days holiday left..... and Hermione picked up a book to read in case she got bored!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm so much for my PWP one shot! Thank you all as ever for the lovely comments and Kudos, which really do give a person inspiration to carry on.
> 
> So the usual apologies for any glaring errors grammatical or otherwise. Especially as I seem to be getting deeper and deeper into a world which is relatively new to me, so I hope you will forgive me. Fingers crossed this chapter comes up to expectations. ENJOY!

 

The Malfoys certainly did live very well. Yes, they were an old wizarding family, but she knew, mainly from her gossips with Minerva McGonagall, that Lucius had worked exceedingly hard, following his stay in Azkaban and his association with the Dark Lord, to restore his wealth, his family’s name, not to mention his own severely tarnished reputation. The results of all, were now evident.   

The train carriage paled into insignificance against the rooms she had been given for the duration of her stay at the Manor. Livy had insisted on unpacking Hermione’s small extended suitcase, so she’d managed a quick look around earlier. But it was only now, as she lay neck deep, in hot, richly scented bubbles that she really had time to appreciate it.  

Hermione wasn’t a materialistic person by any stretch of the imagination, but she had to admit, it was nice, just for once, to enjoy the finer things in life. Who would have thought she would be enjoying them curtesy of a Malfoy, well two Malfoys, to be more accurate.

 

At this precise moment in time, any concerns Hermione had about all three of the Malfoys. The father, the son, or the house, were being gently soothed away, amidst a surge of coconut scented steam. She didn’t want to think about anything except the relaxing heat of the water and the calming effect of the room. She put the conversation with Draco out of her mind too. It would either be something he did or didn’t do. She had pushed him as hard and far as she dare, the rest was up to him and of course his father.

 

It would be so easy to drift off to sleep in the deep tub, which sat amongst an array of candles. Their varying shapes and sizes bathing the room in a soft, almost comforting glow, casting hypnotic silhouettes across the walls and ceiling. In one corner, a large conch shell, almost as big as one of Hagrid’s pumpkins, stood. Emitted from its depths, the sound of sea. Gentle waves lapping against the shore. Occasionally the volume would increase to crashing surf, rushing fiercely against the sand. A gentle warmth ebbed from the enormous fire that burned in her bedroom, Livy had insisted on lighting it before she had left Hermione for the night.

Reluctantly, Hermione eased herself from bubbles. They slid from her skin, in little oiled globules, leaving it feeling silky soft. Wrapping herself in a huge fluffy towel, she walked across the surprisingly warm marble floor and into her bedroom.

 

It had been well before term started that Hermione had allowed herself to relax in this rather decadent fashion. Getting ready to return to school, had proved a fractious period, and once back at Hogwarts she’d had little or no time to herself. Between, Professor Snape’s incessant papers and the hours she spent with Draco, the time just flew by. Any precious moments she did get to spend alone, Hermione found herself fretting about exams, or picking over her encounters with elder Malfoy.

But tonight she had promised herself, once she got into that bathtub, she was not going to think about anything or anyone. She would be back at school before she knew it, and tomorrow, there would be Lucius Malfoy to contend with.

 

She’d had her soak, she’d scrambled into her pyjamas and she was now curled up on the enormous comfortable bed, three chapters into what was already proving to be an extremely hot and very raunchy best seller. Hardly conducive to keeping her mind off Lucius Malfoy. Every graphic encounter, depicted between the pages reminding her in some way of him. The author could have easily had him in mind when she wrote the book. The eponymous hero, a handsome, wealthy and arrogant man, who took what he wanted. Hermione had smiled understandingly as the heroine became more and more intrigued, more and more sucked in to his world.

With each page the story and the sex got hotter and more graphic. Someone really had to have a vivid imagination to write this kind of, what she could only describe as smut. Hermione turned the page quickly, impatient to find out what he was going to do with the young woman, blindfolded and restrained by leather ties.

She slid down further amongst the scattering of square and oblong pillows that were strewn across the bed. Hermione had read some steamy novels in her time, historical pot boilers when she was young, moving onto something slightly more risqué as she got older, but this one was in a league of its own. Colourful language and explicit sexual content, didn’t begin to describe it. Even in the privacy of her own room, Hermione felt her face flush. 

Hermione recalled her mother enjoying audio books. She would listen to them whilst doing her chores or relaxing with a cuppa, sometimes even in the bath. Classic novels such as Pride and Prejudice or Anna Karenina, or something more modern from the best sellers list.  They were read by someone famous in the Muggle world, whose voice leant itself perfectly to the story.  Hermione imagined the graphic content she was now embroiled in, being read aloud. Whose voice would lend itself to this kind of novel?

Heat pooling between her legs as Lucius Malfoy’s familiar tones enunciated the colourful text:

_“Do you have any idea what I am going to do to you?” I murmur, she’s so enticing & smells so good._

_“You’re very beautiful, I cannot wait to be inside you.”_

Hermione turned another page, trying to get that deep, sexy voice out of her head. She continued to read. Once again Lucius Malfoy’s voice picked up the story.

_God I want her._

_“Please.” She begs._

_“I am going to fuck you now.” I tell her, one thrust and I am inside her._

Hermione squirmed on the bed. Her nipples achingly hard against the soft material of her pyjamas, a rush of arousal dampening the skimpy shorts.

_She’s so fucking tight, like heaven and earth around me. I move tentatively as her body cradles my cock._

Her hand about to dip into the shorts, Hermione shut the book quickly. She should sleep. The last thing she needed was more erotic dreams of Lucius Malfoy disturbing her, especially when the man in question, was somewhere under the same roof, quite possibly only meters from her.

 

Despite the book, Hermione must have been very relaxed, and utterly exhausted, as watery winter sunshine was streaming onto her bed, when she woke almost 9 hours later. She hadn’t slept so soundly in months. She stretched languorously amidst the sumptuous cotton bedding, smiling wickedly at the book, resting innocently on the nightstand. Perhaps just one chapter before breakfast………………….

 

Slipping out of bed, Hermione tugged on jeans and an oversize jumper, she didn’t bother with shoes. Grabbing her book she padded quietly from her room. It would be nice to curl up in the library, before the rest of the house woke.

The Library had been the only room Draco had showed her the previous evening. Telling her he would save the grand tour for the following day. He knew her penchant for a good read, and pointed out it was also a great place to hide.  He also told her that in the winter it was a particularly good spot to enjoy the early sunshine.

She didn’t want to go wandering around Malfoy Manor alone, but it was little after 8am. Hermione passed all the tightly closed doors, a little voice in her head wondering which room “The Master” was in. He hadn’t been home by the time she retired, so she doubted he would be up this early. Was he still asleep or perhaps in the shower………...she shook the image of Lucius Malfoy naked, in either his bed or his shower from her mind. Heading down the stairs. Portrait after portrait, hundreds of years of pale faced Malfoys watched sternly and curiously, as she crept silently by.

A huge fire roared cheerfully beneath a handsome mantelpiece that dominated the library. It was, just as Draco had described, bathed in the glorious pale sunlight. The heavy velvet drapes were neatly tied back, allowing it to filter weakly through the diamond paned windows and doors.  Draco hadn’t said much about the books themselves, other than the fact, they were amongst his father’s most prized possessions. The younger Malfoy obviously spent more time hiding in here, than reading.

 

She dropped her own book absently onto a beautifully polished heavy wooden table. The door clicked shut behind her, with a gentle thud and Hermione savoured the ambiance of the room. The splendid décor, the carefully placed antique furniture. The delicious smell of leather and parchment, mingled with the scent of burning wood from the fire. Save the odd crackle or pop from the fire, the room was completely silent, exuding a strange tranquillity that Hermione let wash over her.

Most children were overawed by sweet shops. Row upon row of scrumptious, brightly coloured confectionary in heavy glass jars, and a plethora of flavours to delight the senses. But for the young Hermione Granger that thrill always came in a book shop. Row upon row of intricately bound books. Their straight spines etched with the promise of knowledge or an enthralling fictional world.

No wonder these books were among Lucius Malfoy’s most treasured possession, they were simply exquisite. Rich leather, embossed with gold or silver leaf, in fluctuating shapes and sizes. A tiny Pocket Guide to Mythical Creatures, no bigger than the size of Hermione’s palm. Its dark red cover housing a host of small, beautiful illustrations. Further along the shelf was a huge volume of Wizarding Maps, so heavy she could hardly lift it. Hermione ran her fingers lovingly along the spines, her heart beating a little faster with each newly discovered title.  Her eye coming to rest upon on a copy of The Fine Art of Apothecary.  Actually it wasn’t a copy at all. Hermione was no expert, but even to her untrained eye, she recognised the volume as an original edition.

She slid to the floor, clasping the book almost reverently, the thick carpet cushioning her landing. Sitting cross legged, she placed it in her lap, slowly opening it and leafing through the thick parchment pages. Within moments she was utterly absorbed.

 

“Does the content arouse you Miss Granger?”

A rich familiar voice asked from across the room.

The breath rushed from Hermione’s body at the deliciously unexpected sound. Her brain racing to comprehend the question.

“Stimulating as I find The Fine Art of Apothecary, Mr Malfoy I…..” She glanced up in the direction of his voice. What breath was left in her body vanished at the sight of Lucius Malfoy.

He had clearly been in the library for some minutes, and had been enjoying watching her. He was seated in a high back, leather chair next to the fireplace. Dressed, as she had never seen him before, _casually_ , well without his usual robes, almost Muggle in appearance you might say. A fine white cotton shirt clung to his upper body, it was open at the neck, and one further unfastened button exposed his pale throat. His slightly raised arm revealed the shirt was secured at the double cuff by silver cufflinks. She was too far away to determine what they were. One elegantly booted foot, rested across the knee of his other leg. The black finely tailored trousers accentuated his long muscled legs.

The final bit of air that remained in Hermione’s lungs, exited her body when she realised what he had meant by his question, her absently discarded, erotic best seller was clasped between his fingers.

Heat raced to every party of her, starting with her cheeks. It headed rapidly south as she recalled, not only the graphic content but also how in her mind she had imagined him reading it. Imagination was no longer required, as he began to read from the page she had marked before falling asleep.

 

_Suddenly she drew me into her mouth, her tongue torturing me. She sucks harder_

_“Christ” I growl and close my eyes so I don’t come immediately._

Hermione was totally mesmerized as his aristocratic tones articulated the explicit text.

_She continues her sweet torture and I flex my hips, pushing myself farther into her mouth. I grab her hair and start to work her mouth. I groan and wonder how deep she’ll allow me._

His voice was stroking every part of her body, bringing it alive with every word. Hermione swallowed hard watching him intently. Lucius Malfoy slowly turned the page……..

_With deep determination she slides down on me until I hit the back of her throat._

_“If you don’t stop I am going to come in your mouth” I warn her breathless. I thrust into her mouth again and again watching my cock disappear and reappear from her mouth. It’s beyond erotic. I am so close. Suddenly she bares her teeth, squeezing me, and I am undone. Ejaculating into the back of her mouth and crying out in pleasure.”_

The heavy wooden door to the library flew open.

“There you are Granger, I don’t suppose you’ve seen my fath…..” Draco stopped mid-sentence catching sight of Lucius seated comfortably by the fire.

Lucius as always, didn’t miss a beat, recovering quickly from his son’s untimely interruption, slipping her book behind a large cushion on the armchair.

 “ _MISS Granger_ and I were discussing a rather interesting book.” He explained unhurriedly.

Hermione’s eyes widened, thankfully, he had _only_ been reading to her, only been reading, who was she trying to kid. He might as well have had her naked on the floor. Her body was on fire, the blood pulsating in her veins.

She glanced down at the book that she had once been so engrossed in: “The Fine Art of Apothecary.” She volunteered, her voice sounding a little breathy, as she closed it, stroking the gold leafed title etched on the cover. “This is a particularly fine volume.”

Lucius’ pale grey eyes caught hers, they glinted wickedly as he drew his attention back to his son, who was looking distinctly uninterested in the Fine Art of Apothecary.

“Did you need something Draco?”

All at once Draco looked a little angry, a little confused and a little unnerved.

“You were asking Miss Granger, if she had seen me.  I assume there was a reason you were looking for me?” Lucius voice took on an irritated timbre.

Draco glanced at Hermione, sitting cross legged on the floor, she looked like a child, the large book resting in her lap. Her words from the previous evening resonated in his head. He looked at his father, who was regarding him with obvious impatience. “What harm could it do” She had said.  He returned his gaze to Hermione, gave her a half-hearted smile and then addressed his father.

“I was wondering if you’d had breakfast, if not maybe you’d like to join Granger and me.”

It seemed odd, inviting his own father to join him for breakfast, in his own house, but somehow it seemed the right thing to do. His gazed wandered briefly back to Hermione, who was smiling broadly, he gave his shoulders a brief almost imperceptible shrug and she winked at him.  

 

A strange little frisson of delight raced through Hermione, completely different to the one she had enjoyed at the hands, or rather the voice, of his father, moments before. This one was a small victory celebration. This was Draco making an effort, although she was sure his unceremonious and ill-timed entrance into the library had not got him off to an auspicious start. 

Hermione watched a myriad of emotions cross Lucius Malfoy’s handsome face. His hair was pulled back from his face this morning, and he was unable to hide behind it. Irritation, quickly changed to suspicion, which veered into disbelief, finally dissolving into what Hermione could only describe as pleasure.  She almost held her breath as she waited for Lucius to respond to his son. Please let him say something nice or just polite, she prayed silently.

“That would be very nice Draco, it’s a lovely day. Perhaps you should show _Miss_ Granger the morning room and I will have the elves serve it in there.”

It was like being at a Quidditch match, her eyes going from one side to the other to keep up with play.

A small, almost nervous smile lifted Draco’s thin lips; “That’s a nice idea father. Come on Granger, we can start the tour there.”

Hermione noticed Lucius roll his eyes. She chewed her bottom lip anxiously.

“Draco there is one thing,”

This wasn’t going to be good, Hermione, bit down harder on her lip.

“With Miss Granger’s permission of course. Do you think we could perhaps address each other in a more civilised and adult fashion?” Lucius Malfoy’s tone had changed to one of melodic exasperation.

Well she hadn’t expected that! Hermione almost laughed out loud, trying to stop herself made it worse, a small very unladylike snort emanating from somewhere between her nose and her mouth.

Both sets of Malfoy eyes fell upon her. Their penetrating, surprised stares, so similar, she felt she were seeing double. She really couldn’t resist.

“Does that mean Mr Malfoy?” She began, her warm brown eyes falling upon the elder Malfoy.  “I should desist from referring to your son as Ferret for the duration of the Christmas Holidays?”

 

Draco shot daggers at Hermione, and then looked almost apologetically at his father, who had risen from the chair, in which he’d been positively lounging. If Hermione’s unladylike snort had caused surprised faces, the sound of Lucius Malfoy’s laughter caused outright shock.

 

Still smiling, he strode elegantly across the room to where Hermione remained seated on the floor. He extended her his hand, indicating that she should rise, and offering his assistance:

“Believe it or not Miss Granger, or with you permission, Hermione. I am sorely tempted to say no. However, I feel that if you do, my son will continue to refer to you as Granger, a notion that irks me greatly.”

Hermione took in Draco’s stunned expression as she accepted Lucius’ warm hand, his fingers closing tightly around her own and squeezing them.

“Thank you Mr Malfoy, that’s…..”

“Lucius please.”

“Lucius” She acquiesced. Turning to Draco, who seemed to be in a state of stunned silence.

“What say you Ferret, think you can manage to call Hermione for the next few days?” She felt Lucius’s body shudder with silent laughter, beside her.

 

 

Draco Malfoy was frozen in a moment in time:  He regarded the young woman whose hand his father held.  His mind flashing back to their second year of school. Was this really the same young woman that his father had so derisively belittled in Flourish and Blotts? Thanks largely to him: “Oh yes! Draco’s told me all about you.” He shuddered at the memory. Realising how alike they had been, when a week or so later, he himself had been equally, if not more scathing, by calling her a “filthy little Mudblood”. Now he blanched at the recollection, remembering with frightening clarity, even after all this time, how her nose had wrinkled and the hurt etched on her face.

Hermione Granger had inexplicably, and unbelievably become his friend.

 

Most of their academic weeks were spent together, be it in classes or study periods. Their extracurricular time, they largely spent in each other’s company, at Quidditch matches, albeit on opposing sides, or on trips to Hogsmeade. Now here she was in his home, and he had invited her.    

She said things to him he wouldn’t allow anyone else to say. He told her things, he wouldn’t tell another living soul.  He had never had this kind of relationship with anyone. Secretly he had always envied the friendship she had with Potter. It was true friendship, borne out of love and respect. Not because it had been bought or because he was who he was, or who he was connected to.

In the dark recesses of his mind Draco Malfoy even envied the relationship the Weasley children had.  A tiny part of him had always hankered after a little sister. As an only child, he’d been lonely. So much rested on his shoulders, so much was expected of him a, sibling would have lessened that burden.  Draco knew instinctively that a sister, his sister, would have been “ _Daddy’s Girl”_ something else that would have made his life a lot easier.

His sister would have been someone he could have tormented and bullied mercilessly, but who loved him unconditionally and wasn’t afraid to stand up to him. Just as Ginny Weasley did with all of her brothers. Someone he could be as horrid as he liked too, but woe betide anyone else who was.  Someone who he could stand up for, be protective of. Someone who in return stood up for him and was protective of him. 

Hermione Granger seemed to have slipped into that role with consummate ease. And now she was making fun of him in front of his father, but he didn’t care. It was like they had been friends from birth. Despite everything that had happened, Hermione had found it in her heart to forgive him and his father.  What she had said to him the previous evening, unlike Draco Malfoy, he had given her words a lot of thought.

“What harm could it do?” She had asked. 

The almost unheard of sound of his father’s laughter a few moments ago, had given him the answer. “None whatsoever”.

 

 

 


	9. Core N'Grato

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is spending the Christmas Holiday at Malfoy Manor......Time for a little musical interlude I think...
> 
> (Just in case anyone is interested the three pieces of music referred to are Core N'Grato, The Chorus of The Hebrew Slaves and Bolero)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Housekeeping first...thanks for the continued Kudos and Comments. I am truly grateful for all of your kind words and that you are enjoying this so much.
> 
> I am delving into uncharted territory here, for me at least, so I am keeping everything crossed that you enjoy where I have gone with this and my characterisations. As always I apologise for any errors grammatical or as I seem to be getting in deeper for any original HP inconsistencies, I hope you will forgive me.

The morning room was on the same side of the house as the library, so was also bathed in wintery sunshine. Everything in this room exuded a remarkable homely charm.  It was decorated in much warmer, brighter tones, accentuating the natural light that streamed through the wide expanse of glass.  Just like the other rooms, she had seen so far, it was dominated by a huge fireplace, but in keeping with the essence of this one, it was beautifully carved in white marble, even the thick rug stretched in front of it, was the colour of oatmeal.  

The pale upholstery on the furniture was carefully contrasted with the scattered cushions, both small and large, they were a slightly darker shade of the same colour.  Even the wood in this room was much lighter than that in her bedroom, or the library, possibly oak or yew, Hermione wasn’t sure.

The room boasted no festive decorations, save a spectacular arrangement of flowers in a tall crystal vase. The long stem roses were at least three feet tall, with petals like white velvet, they nestled amongst the darkest green leaves and red berries of some particularly spiteful looking holly. Their delicate but fragrant perfume filling the air. The vase stood on a table in one of the bay windows, in the other was the table at which they ate their breakfast. Between the two, was a set of French doors, which led onto the terrace and into the gardens beyond.

“Perhaps, Father.” Draco began a little cautiously. “You might like to show Gra……Hermione, the gardens.” He briefly directed himself to Hermione.  “Father recently had them re-landscaped.”

Lucius Malfoy smiled almost indulgently at his son, a smile that for once, actually reached his usually cold grey eyes. 

Hermione noticed Draco relax visibly at his reaction. That little frisson of celebratory delight was back, she doubted Lucius would say no and turned expectantly to face the man seated at the head of the table.

“If Hermione would like that, then it would be my pleasure.  I do have some correspondence, which I must attend to first however. Perhaps after you have shown her around the manor Draco?”

With his usual impeccable manners, Lucius Malfoy excused himself. Replacing his napkin on the table, he left the room.  Leaving Draco and Hermione alone.

In a scene that was becoming rather familiar, Draco viewed Hermione from across the table, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

“What?” She asked trying not to smile or dare she say smirk at him.

“I was waiting for some comment about my behaviour or maybe even an…. _I told you so.”_

Hermione feigned hurt, pointing to her chest “Moi?” She said in a shocked voice. Her face dissolving into a wicked smile; “Ferret….sorry Draco, as if I would!”

 

The more of Malfoy Manor, Hermione saw, the more the memories of the past faded.  Although vast, it really was a beautiful house, the vastness, or maybe something else, leaving it feeling just short of a home. 

That little part of her brain once more strayed to thoughts of Lucius Malfoy, wondering what he did when he was alone in the huge manor house.   Narcissa had left him just after the war, The Black’s had fortune enough of their own, by all accounts, well by Minerva McGonagall’s account. She had taken nothing from her former husband. Save her son, apparently she had wanted no reminders of him.

 

Draco gave Hermione what he called the “edited highlights tour.”

In a slight exaggeration, she surmised, Draco said, to show her everywhere, would take the entire length of the holidays. And despite her courage at walking back into this house, he also felt sure there were places that she wouldn’t want to see.   

“I avoid coming into this room.” He told Hermione as he opened the door to the drawing room. 

“We don’t have to.” She said, touching him lightly on the shoulder.

Draco held onto the bronze handle, the door half open. His pale blue eyes meeting her warm brown.

“If you can do it so can I.” He said squaring his narrow shoulders, opening the door fully and allowing them entry into the room, which obviously held such bad memories.

 

The pumps Hermione had slipped on after breakfast, clicked lightly across the stone floor of the enormous room.  The mantelpiece in this room took up almost one wall, the fire that burnt in its heart illuminated the entire rather dark room. A large ornate mirror surmounted it, looking down on the long boardroom like table, which sat on a thick rug.

“The Dark Lord……..”Draco began, absently touching his left forearm, through the sleeve of his pullover. “The Dark Lord humiliated my father in this room. For me that was more unforgettable and …….and more unforgivable than killing Professor Burbage. Is that a terrible thing to say Granger?”

Had Draco not turned the statement into a question, Hermione would have remained silent. She considered her words carefully before responding. Trying to put herself in Draco’s untenable position at the time, and for that matter Lucius Malfoy’s.

“No Draco, it’s not terrible to put your family before a stranger. It’s only natural, a human reaction to remember what is done to those we love.” She was pushing her friendship again with him, her next words would push it still further.

“Your father put his family first, it’s what put him in that position. But you don’t need to forgive him for that, you just need to understand.”  Hermione saw a little spot of colour, redden Draco’s pale face, she was unsure if it was, the heat from the fire, embarrassment or anger. She didn’t wait to find out if it was the latter.

“I modified my parents’ memories” She told him flatly. “They live in Australia now, they don’t even know they ever had a daughter.” Tears welled in her big brown eyes and she went on quickly. “I did it to protect them and to protect Harry.” She saw a look of utter disbelief on Draco’s face. “Sometimes, you will go to any lengths to protect the ones you love. No matter what the cost is to yourself.”

“Hermione, I……”

It was the first time Draco had called her by her given name, through her own sadness, it made her smile. She took Draco’s hand in her own, her fingers tightening around his. Glancing around the room, she said: “It’s ok, there is nothing in here to be frightened of, not anymore.” He squeezed her small hand in recognition and nodded.

 

“Believe it or not, I know my father will take good care of you. Whatever else he might be, he’s an excellent host. Come find me when you are done.”

Draco left Hermione outside his father’s study. She stood staring at the solid wooden door.  She couldn’t hear a sound coming from beyond it.

Despite her recent intimate encounters with Lucius Malfoy, trepidation once again coursed through her veins.  Being in his home, made things very different. She was after all here as his son’s guest, not his. She didn’t know what to expect or for that matter, what was expected of her.  He’d made a quip about looking forward to having her for Christmas, the last time they’d met, and their chance meeting in the library earlier, could have ended very differently, had it not been for Draco’s untimely arrival.

Right now she felt like she were walking into a Hungarian Horntails den.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked firmly, nothing. Maybe he was still working and didn’t want to be disturbed. Hermione knocked again, harder this time, her small knuckles having little impact against the heavy timber. Maybe he had left his study and was somewhere else in the manor. Well unless she opened the door, Hermione could find herself standing outside an empty room for some time.  Tentatively she pushed the door…………..

 

The room beyond was far from silent, beautifully haunting music filled the air. Hermione stood motionless, totally captivated by the sound. A tenor voice soaring effortlessly with the music. She didn’t recognise the words, presumably, they were Italian. The pleading tone in the man’s voice giving them an evocative sadness that tugged at her heart, and she found herself drawn in.  The door closed behind her, any sound it made muffled by the music.

The lyrical voice seemed to be beseeching someone called Caterina, calling her name repeatedly, before launching into more heartfelt words that Hermione didn’t understand. She didn’t need to, the music and the interpretation were so powerful, that she felt every word.   

Lucius Malfoy’s eyes were closed, but he wasn’t sleeping, he was totally immersed in the music. Hermione studied his distinctive profile, a look of unadulterated pleasure covered his face. His hand swept elegantly in time to the music, almost as if her were conducting. The other was draped over the back of the deep leather sofa, on which he was seated. His long legs were crossed at the ankles and his feet rested on an oversized, matching footstool, in front of yet another roaring fire.

Hermione noticed Lucius’s hand move, in a lowering gesture and the volume of the music diminished.  His beautiful grey eyes now open, and looking directly at her. His warm and gentle smile, tugging at her heart, almost as much as the emotive music.

He rose as she came closer, his manners, as always, faultless. Years of breeding superseding anything else Lucius Malfoy might have been.

“The music is beautiful and very powerful.” Hermione said, perching on the edge of the large foot stool, as Lucius resumed his sitting position.

“It’s called Core N’Grato.” For a brief moment he looked into the blazing fire, sadness, tinged with something Hermione could not quite distinguish, clouding his silver eyes. “It means Ungrateful Heart in Italian.”

He raised his hand in a brief upward sweep, the volume rose once more, the beautiful voice and music once again filling the air.  Hermione shifted forward on the stool, her small hand coming to rest lightly on his leg. 

As the song changed, they remained exactly as they were, neither of them attempting to move or to speak. This time a choir of glorious voices filled the room, starting quietly and gradually building with the intense music. 

Hermione had never listened to classical music or opera before. She’d heard bits and pieces, but never really listened to it, failing to see the point of listening to something you didn’t understand.  She was now beginning to realise you didn’t need to know what they were singing about, the sheer power of the music conveyed everything, and it was truly beautiful. 

The chorus playing, fell to an almost inaudible murmur, continuing softly, before gradually rising to a rousing crescendo, carrying Hermione along with it.  As it faded slowly, Lucius hand covered hers, his thumb caressing the back.  There was nothing remotely sexual about the action, but a little spark ignited in Hermione’s belly, none the less.

“I promised to show you the gardens, but I fear the weather may have scuppered our plans”.

He glanced towards the window, the sunshine of earlier had long since gone, the skies over the Manor were now a dismal grey and sleet fell hard against the windows.

“Hopefully there will be another opportunity before I leave.”

“I will make sure of it. The gardens of course are not at their best at this time of year, but they still have their merits.”

Hermione found the small talk endearing. Of course, they had of done it before, in The Three Broomsticks and even briefly over breakfast, but Draco had been with them.  This was quite literally the first time they had actually spoken to each other, about anything.

“I do believe Hermione, this is the first time we have been alone and actually spoken to each other.”  

She smiled, at her name on his lips, her face flushing slightly at his observation. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Do you mind?” He asked, his hand still caressing hers.

“That we are talking now or that we haven’t previously?”

Not only did Lucius Malfoy love that this woman continually surprised him, but he admired her keen wit and how quick she was to spar with him.  “Both.”

Laughing she responded with equal candour and simplicity; “No, not at all.”

“In that case I find myself in a quandary. Part of me wants to just apperate you to my room and continue _reading_ that book of yours.”

Hermione had completely forgotten about her book, and its whereabouts come to that. However she didn’t need to imagine which part of him wanted to do that. She balled her free hand into a fist, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him further, her body tingling as she recalled his voice and the explicit text.

“The author has a very interesting way with words” He continued, his grey eyes twinkling with desire, the grip on her hand tightening, as if apparition were imminent.

 “Whilst the sensible part of me, wants to stay here and talk. I fear however, it could become more of an inquisition than a conversation.”

He studied Hermione, clearly waiting for a response or an indication of some sort.

Already aroused by the simplest of touches and the implication of his words; _that side_ of Hermione seemed to take over. Her body moving of its own volition.

She stood up. Taking a step forward, she edged between Lucius’ knees and reached forward. Her body, even beneath the baggy jumper she wore, tantalisingly close to him. His eyes glinting like liquid silver. As his hands came to rest on her slender hips, and the exotic scent of him drifted to her nostrils Hermione was desperately trying to keep her concentration. Her fingers moved slowly along his chiselled jaw line. Pausing briefly to touch _her_ little muscle that throbbed rapidly, before slipping her hand sensuously into Lucius’ hair. She felt his grip tighten on her hips, heard his breathing become slightly shallower and saw how his body was already reacting to her.

With an impish smile, she tugged on the thin strand of black ribbon that tethered his platinum locks, freeing them to cascade about his shoulders. Hermione twirled the ribbon around her index finger and moving slowly backwards, she sat back down on the stool.

The disappointed look on Lucius Malfoy’s face, changing to curiosity, as she tied the thin strand around her neck, fastening it with a small quite intricate bow. 

“I think a change of house colours is in order.” Removing her wand from her pocket, Hermione turned the thin black ribbon, green.

“As I recall, Lucius.”  It was the first time she had addressed him by his first name, she liked how it sounded on her lips. “You said something about looking forward to having me for Christmas. Well you aren’t allowed to unwrap your gift until midnight.”

The infamous Malfoy smirk was back as Lucius raised his own wand. Hermione felt a tingling sensation around her neck, as he cast a charm on the ribbon.

 “And only _I_ can unwrap it.”

Hermione couldn’t suppress the girlish giggle that escaped her lips, as she touched her fingers to the now, thin green strand that circled her neck.

 “So, now we have _that part_ of you taken care of.” Her face became serious and looking directly at him she asked:  “So what does the inquisitor, Lucius Malfoy want to know?”

“Anything?” He asked with equal seriousness.

“Absolutely.”

“Quid pro quo?” He offered.

She placed her hand back on his leg. “You don’t have to…….I”

“I know, but it’s only fair.”

“OK” She said quietly.

Lucius Malfoy talking about fairness, was a lot to take in.

A subtle movement of his hand and music once again drifted unobtrusively into the air. There were no voices this time, the piece purely orchestral.

Whilst Hermione could not understand the words of the previous two songs, she could pick out the extraordinarily haunting sound of a snare drum and oboe that dominated the music. It practically swirled around the room like smoke. Hermione felt she were being pulled along with it, unable to resist its lure, it reminded her of Lucius Malfoy.

“Beautiful isn’t it.”

His voice pulled her from the hypnotically repetitive sound that was slowly building around her.

“I feel like it’s whirling around the room, climbing, higher and higher I am going with it.”

Lucius Malfoy was a handsome man, but when he smiled, or his face was immersed in pleasure of some kind, he became devastatingly so. Between him and the music Hermione struggled to focus.

“You said something to Draco didn’t you?” He asked unexpectedly and without preamble.

Hermione was focussed now. It was hardly an inquisition, it was one simple question. One simple but very loaded question. Their eyes met, but she saw no reproach in Lucius Malfoy’s face, heard no accusatory tone in his voice.

Hermione didn’t know how much Draco had told his father about their friendship. Knowing Draco, it was probably very little, other than enough to explain, why he had invited her home for the Christmas holiday. Although given the reason why he had extended the invitation, even that, would have been a very short conversation.   Lucius Malfoy had caught her of guard but she had no intention of lying to him or betraying his son’s confidence.

“Yes, I did.” She said frankly. “I reminded him of the Christmas adage about goodwill to all men, and told him that included you.”

A flicker of amusement tugged at his lips. His respect and admiration for this feisty young woman growing, the more he got to know her. As well as everything else he knew her to be, Lucius Malfoy was sure, Hermione Granger was a loyal friend, and loyalty was something he valued greatly.  He was also confident her trust and loyalty had to be earnt.

“I am certain that to get through to my stubborn son, you said a lot more than just that. I am also certain, knowing my son, albeit not that well. That it was far from an easy conversation.”

His eyes were once again clouded with the sadness that she had seen earlier.

“There are many things in my past that I regret, none more so than the way I treated my son. I am sure, considering what I have done, that must shock you.”

Unlike Draco earlier, Lucius’ words where rhetorical and Hermione remained silent.

“Much is expected of a Malfoy heir, and I am ashamed to admit, I bullied Draco mercilessly to live up to those expectations. In return I gave him little to be proud of. As a father, I drove his mother away, for which I know he blames me. And as a man, I was humiliated in my own home, for which I know he cannot forgive me. It is no wonder my son has little time for me and even less respect.”

He closed his eyes, shutting out the pain it clearly caused him, allowing the music that still played discreetly in the background to almost sooth him.  Opening them once more, slate grey in their intensity, he looked directly at Hermione.

“Everything I have done, the choices I have made, no matter how bad they were, I made for my family, for my son. Whatever you said and I will not press the issue ….….. Thank you.”

 

Hermione just stared at Lucius Malfoy, astonished by not only his openness but also his gratitude, finding the similarities between the two conversations, she had shared with father and son quite ironic. Over the last few months, when it came to the arrogant and handsome elder Malfoy, Hermione had found her body suffused with many overwhelming urges. At the moment none more so than the need to bang his head against his son’s. If only they would talk to each other!

She wanted to respond with equal honesty, but for the first time in his presence, Hermione found herself more than a little afraid. Pushing the boundaries of her friendship with Draco was one thing, pushing a former Death Eater could have far more unsavoury consequences, whatever their relationship.

Hermione could see the sadness, and genuine regret etched on his face. Exasperation at the lack of communication between father and son, banished her fear.

“You know your son a lot better than you give yourself credit for. Maybe you should try talking to each other once in while!”

She watched his expression darken, his eyes seeming to change from slate grey to navy blue, his brow furrowing slightly.  Hermione wasn’t about to show him any fear now.

“Quid pro quo?” She ventured quickly

She had made her point and she hadn’t betrayed any of Draco’s confidences. Lucius had said he wouldn’t press her, and Hermione wasn’t ready to discuss either her friendship, or her conversation with his son, this was the easy way out.

Lucius said nothing, his expression softening, his eyes returning to their normal colour, he merely nodded his head.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Hermione smiled innocently at him before asking her question: “So who is coming to this soiree of yours tonight then?”

The surprise on his face was palpable. Hermione felt quietly content with her diplomatic sidestepping. 

“Just a few colleagues, mostly from the Ministry. I am a little more selective of my friends these days. However saying that Severus will be joining us. I also extended an invitation to Professor McGonagall, but she was uncertain if she would be able to come. All of my fellow school governors will be here of course.”

He watched Hermione’s reaction carefully, and there it was, that little glimmer of interest when he mentioned his fellow governors.  It would appear Draco had told her about his supposedly secret liaisons with Nemessia Fellows.

His son and the young Gryffindor had clearly become very good friends which was even more apparent from her courageous remarks. Something for which he was strangely grateful.

This evening was going to be more fun than even he had anticipated, in more ways than one.

His silver grey eyes falling to the thin strand of green ribbon that was wound enticingly around Hermione Granger’s slender neck.  

 

 


	10. The Tiny Strand of Green Silk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scene is being set.......Christmas is coming.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thanks for comments and Kudos.
> 
> Glad you are STILL enjoying this. Usual apologies apply but from your comments I appear to be getting something right, so please continue to enjoy

Hermione looked at the reflection that gazed back at her from the long cheval mirror in her bedroom. She had spent the last, almost four months in either, her school uniform or jeans. Mostly devoid of makeup and with her unruly mass of hair caught in a band of some sort, or just being her unruly mass of hair. The elegant young woman that starred back at her was barely recognisable.

 

She had two dresses to her name, both of them black. One was a smart day dress, which she wore for interviews or more formal meetings. The other was a rather stylish cocktail dress, which she now wore. It was a very simple, classic design, in a soft, delicate lace. The fabric clung perfectly to her small frame, enhancing all the right places. It had tiny almost non-existent cap sleeves and a daring scalloped neckline in the shape of a heart, it did however fall modestly to just above the knee, keeping it from looking cheap or tarty in any way. Hermione had donned her dangerously high heel, black patent shoes, which accentuated not only her height but also her long slender legs.

She had applied a smoothing serum, as well as a straightening charm to that unruly mass of hair. It was now caught it in a loose chignon at the base of her neck. A few slightly wavy tendrils were left free to frame her face.  The effect was completed with negligible makeup, a few strokes of mascara, to her already long lashes. A quick hint of blush to her cheeks, although these days they seemed to be in a permanent state of blush. As she had kept the rest of her makeup to a minimum, Hermione allowed herself the indulgence of a light coat of dark red lipstick.

The tiny strand of green silk at her throat, seemed to shine translucently in the light and Hermione touched her fingers lightly to it, immediately feeling the charm that Lucius had placed upon it earlier in the day. A small smile lifted her red lips as she recalled how perfectly it had complimented the dark emerald green of the silk teddy, she had purchased in Paradise Glossed, and that she now wore beneath her dress. How sexy the two had looked, combined with her high heels and of course some lace top stockings, which had proved so popular at the Halloween Feast. 

Hermione felt very feminine and unusually sensual, even the silkiness of the fabrics stirring her. But still something wasn’t quite right.

She regarded her reflection in the mirror once more, smoothing the lace of her dress against her skin, virtually writhing at the feel of the expensive material against her skin.   Smiling back at herself, her brown eyes twinkling, she realised what it was. For the second time that day, Hermione used a colour changing charm.  Her little black dress instantly becoming, a little grey dress. A shade somewhere between steel and silver. Almost the colour of Lucius Malfoy’s eyes and most definitely a shade of Slytherin.

A knock on her door interrupted her now self-satisfied appraisal.

“Merlin’s teeth, Granger, look at you.”

She and Draco slipped easily back into their school names when his father was not within earshot.

“I assume Ferret that means I pass muster”

“If that means you look hot, then yeah you do.” He grinned boyishly at her, his blue eyes twinkling appreciatively.

Hermione couldn’t contain her laughter, it was a little weird, Draco telling her she looked “hot”, but she accepted his compliment in the spirit of which it had been proffered.

“Well thank you, I think! You don’t scrub up so bad yourself” Teasingly, she brushed an imaginary speck of dust from the shoulder of his well-tailored jacket and straightened his not crooked black tie.

“I am sure my father will be in full dress robes. I couldn’t be doing with that, but I thought I’d better make an effort.”

“You look very debonair, I am sure that your father will be delighted.” She whacked his arm as he rolled his eyes. “This is one of only two dresses that I possess, so it was either this or my school uniform.”

Draco nodded approvingly: “Good decision Granger.  Interesting choice of colour, especially with this….. Ouch....what the!”

Draco had tugged playfully at the intricate bow on the strand of green silk at Hermione’s throat. It had immediately emitted a small emerald flash, a spark of electricity travelling painfully through Draco’s fingers and up his arm.

“WOW!” Thought Hermione that is one hell of a charm. She tried not to laugh at Draco’s expression or his clearly stinging fingers.

“Sorry, its err charmed”

“No shit!” He exclaimed blowing on his tender flesh.

“It has ………. sentimental value.” Hermione was frantically wracking her brain for a good reason, why a tiny strand of green silk would have any value at all, sentimental or otherwise.  “I don’t want to lose it.”

“Oh right.” Draco muttered, still rubbing his sore fingers.

Hermione, felt guilty lying to him, but still laughed inwardly at the powerful charm his father had placed on it.

“Ready” He asked, looking from his fingers to Hermione’s neck, a slightly bemused expression flittering across his face.

“As I will be”

Draco offered Hermione his arm, in an overblown gesture of chivalry, clearly imitating his father. She accepted it, in the same fashion and they made their way down the stairs.

“Maybe I will just sit on the stairs and watch” Draco groaned scanning the entrance hall of his home. “I think that might actually be more fun.”

“Shall we sit here” Hermione asked, clinging to his arm and thinking the same thing. “I know four people here, and one of those is your father.”

“Hey that’s one more than me, who am I missing.”

They paused halfway down the vast staircase: “Well excluding your father, who we know is here somewhere. There’s Professor Snape over there, he looks really pleased he came, not! The tall guy over there, standing by the Christmas Tree, that’s Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, I haven’t got a clue who he is talking to though, and that’s your squeeze over there isn’t it? She’s looking decidedly bored.”

“What, where?” Draco craned his neck, scanning the assembled guests. His interest suddenly piqued, he seemed a lot keener to join the party.

“Try not to be too obvious won’t you.” Hermione chided, giving him a playful poke in the ribs.

“Are you planning to sit and watch from the stairs as you used to Draco?” Lucius Malfoy’s noble tones rose from the bottom of the dramatic staircase.

Just as Draco had suspected his father was in full dress robes. His appearance, as he leaned almost casually against the newel, robbing Hermione of the power of speech. The darkness of his exquisitely tailored robes, accentuated his already imposing height. He exuded a consummate and refined arrogance in his bearing, he was every inch the Lord of the Manor, and master of all he surveyed. Hermione felt Draco stiffen slightly at her side, distracting her from the overwhelming presence of his father:

“We were contemplating it”. Hermione managed to gather her thoughts, and intercede, all be it a little breathlessly. “But I think Draco has decided, it might actually be more fun to join in.”  She squeezed his arm, feeling him relax immediately.

They continued their descent, moving towards Lucius. She had chided the younger Malfoy for not being too obvious with his attentions towards Nemessia Fellows, but it would appear she needed to heed her own advice.

“Hermione, may I say you look simply stunning. That shade suits you beautifully.” His aristocratic tones were as languid in their verbal appraisal, as his gaze.

“And such a pretty and if I may say, unusual accessory.” He observed, his hand rising to the choker of green silk.

Hermione once again felt Draco tense at her side, this time, she knew it was for fear his father’s fingers were about to suffer the same agonising  fate as his own. But Lucius didn’t touch it, he merely gestured. Instead he extended an elegant, ringed hand to Hermione, facilitating her descent from the remaining few steps. She smiled at Draco, noticing his attention had once again wandered to elsewhere in the room.  Relinquishing his arm, she graciously accepted that of his father.  

Hermione’s gaze met his, warm brown colliding with pale grey. Who needed sparks from a tiny strand of silk, when the air around them positively crackled.

Every inch of her was acutely aware of Lucius Malfoy. The hairs on the back of her neck stood rigidly to attention, her stomach flip flopped, and that little pool of heat burned fierce and low in her belly. Even her toes tingled, but then considering what they had done to the man himself, that was hardly surprising.

Hermione glanced at the antique grandfather clock, which stood next to the Christmas tree. Although partially obscured by the Minister for Magic, she could see it wasn’t even 7pm! How in Merlin’s name was she going to last until midnight?

She toyed nervously with the tiny strand of green silk at her throat. Lucius Malfoy’s eyes glinted like molten silver and Hermione felt a jolt of energy flow from the silky thread.  It was as if a tiny bead of liquid fire had been released into her body.  No wider than the ribbon itself, it trickled across her palm and travelled slowly up her arm. It stopped as quickly as it had begun, and seemed to vanish, until she felt a sudden heat at her breasts. The warmth spreading to her nipples, slowing encircling them, as if they were being gently caressed by hot fingers. They peaked hard and tight against the silken teddy, before the sensation abruptly ceased. Lucius Malfoy’s luminous eyes were still firmly fixed on her, now the colour of steel, a knowing smile lifting his lips. So oblivious was Hermione to everyone and everything around her, she almost reached out to touch them.

The little ball of fire had reignited between her legs, unsated arousal ached and dampened her underwear. A feeling of such intensity, Hermione all but cried out. She noticed Lucius flare his nostrils, her cheeks warmed and she felt her neck flushing at the thought that he could smell her musky scent, the ache increasing at the thoroughly base notion. Coherent thought, let alone words eluded her.

“I told Gran….Hermione, about the parties you used to have, and how I liked to watch through the bannisters, until you or mother discovered me.”

Draco said suddenly, his attention seeming to have returned, his words bringing them both back to his presence. His admission earning him two sets of surprised looks. His light blue eyes darting from Hermione to his father, his cheeks flushing. 

“Nemessia” Lucius practically drawled, as they were joined, amidst a rustle of satin and an overpowering waft of perfume, by the stylish Ms Fellows. “You remember my son Draco don’t you? He took care of you at the Halloween Feast.”

So much for saving him from further scrutiny and embarrassment. Draco’s usually pale cheeks, burned even pinker at his father’s words.  If she didn’t know better, Hermione would swear that Lucius Malfoy was more than aware of just _how_ the, elegant older witch had taken care of his son at the Halloween Feast.

“But of course I do Lucius” She purred in her throaty tones. “Such a charming young man _how_ could I possibly forget.” She once again curled a taloned hand possessively around Draco’s arm.

Hermione thought she noticed some conspiratory eye contact between the two school governors, but put it down to her imagination and a little rush of jealousy.

“Draco, if your father doesn’t mind and your charming companion could spare you, for just a little while, perhaps you would show me around your beautiful home.”

Not wanting to get caught up in this, and to put some much needed distance between her and the Malfoy patriarch, Hermione decided she would go and say hello to Professor Snape, who was still looking decidedly uncomfortable,  clearly wishing he remained at Hogwarts.

“Actually, if you will all excuse me. I think it would only be polite to say good evening to Professor Snape.”

She caught Lucius’ amused eye, feeling him watching her intently as she crossed the room to where Professor Snape was cradling a glass of Firewhiskey.

 

“Good evening Miss Granger” He greeted her cordially as she approached. “I must say I am a little astonished to see you here.”

Her Defence Against the Dark Arts Master viewed her suspiciously. His cold black eyes taking in her evidently, somewhat different appearance.

“Good evening Professor Snape. I confess, I am a little _astonished_ to be here.” She parroted his words, but didn’t elaborate any further as to why she was at Malfoy Manor. “Is Professor McGonagall not joining us? Lucius said he had extended her an invitation.”

Hermione didn’t miss the surprise that lit his habitually empty black eyes, as she referred to their host by his given name.

“Unfortunately no.” He paused, punctuating his words in his typical staccato fashion. “She felt someone, of senior status should remain at the school”.

Hermione noticed those same cold black eyes once again taking in her appearance, she shivered under his blatant assessment.

“An interesting choice of colours Miss Granger” Snape observed lazily. “One might have thought you would have been in red and gold, after all, they are considered by some, to be festive colours, and are of course the colours of your house.”

It stood to reason, her choice of colours would not go unnoticed by the Head of Slytherin House. Even after all this time, the snarky Professor might still be able to put her down in the classroom and give her detention, but she was not going to allow him to have the upper hand here.

“I didn’t dress for the festive season Professor Snape. I ………” She was about to continue when she saw his hand rise into the space between them.

“This is a very interesting adornment.” He interrupted in his customary brusque manner.

Before she could stop him, Severus Snape touched the little bow at Hermione’s throat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lucius Malfoy observing the exchange. Even from this distance, she could see the devilish glint in his eyes, and that infamous Malfoy smirk curling his lips.

The small green jolt of electricity that stung Draco’s fingers had been nothing. Severus Snape hit the wall behind him with a resounding thud. The room almost lit by the flash of emerald that sparked from the tiny strand of green silk. A few heads turned to see what the commotion was, but no one seemed unduly concerned or perturbed, returning almost immediately to their drinks and conversation. Cleary such occurrences were common place at Malfoy Manor.

Professor Snape scrambled to his feet amid the rustle of his black robes, pulling and straightening them, he starred angrily at Hermione.  She had seen that look on his face many times over the years. As well as being angry, Severus Snape was suspicious, Severus Snape was very suspicious.

His black eyes narrowing as he spoke: “That is an exceedingly powerful charm Miss Granger.” He observed with icy precision. “Placed by an equally powerful wizard. One might be tempted to ask who?”

Across the room, Lucius Malfoy shifted in her peripheral vision, Hermione was more than aware of his formidable presence, but she didn’t look overtly in his direction, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on her curious and decidedly annoyed Professor.

“One might be tempted to ask Professor, but one might not necessarily get the answer they were looking for.” She gave him a saccharine sweet smile, her fingers twiddling with the small bow. “If you will excuse me.”

Upsetting a Hogwarts Professor, was not the shrewdest idea, at the best of times. Upsetting, or worse still angering, Severus Snape was definitely a bad move, even if it was inordinately satisfying. Turning in her very high heels, Hermione left the seething professor and went off in search of a much needed drink.

A glass of champagne magically appeared in front of her. It floated in the air, beautifully chilled in a tall crystal flute. Glancing around, she spotted Lucius Malfoy talking to someone she didn’t know. He raised his own glass to her in salutation and continued with his conversation.

The tiny strand of green silk at her throat, pulsed provocatively and a now familiar warmth spread rapidly through her body.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Merry Christmas Mr Malfoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you aware, some traditions allow you to open a gift on Christmas Eve?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual thank yous and apologies, you know the drill by now.
> 
> Two chapters this week, I am spoiling you.....this one, a little something for the weekend as they say.
> 
> Hope you continue to enjoy.

Chapter 11 ~ Merry Christmas Mr Malfoy

By 11pm the last of the guests had departed from Malfoy Manor.

Despite her somewhat disagreeable encounter with Professor Snape and Draco’s vanishing act, Hermione had enjoyed a very pleasant evening.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had proved an enlightening and entertaining companion, insisting that Hermione contact him once she had finished her exams. Xena Perry, whom Hermione had met briefly at the Halloween Feast, turned out to be an old friend of Professor McGonagall’s. She was equally as adept on the gossip front, and like her old friend, was only too willing to share. Hermione had found herself embroiled in yet further tales of Hogwarts days of yore, as well as a good dose of the current goings on.  The white haired witch being more than a little surprised it seemed, that their host did not have a glamorous witch on his arm. According to the Daily Prophet, Xena confided, he had been seen with a string of them since his wife had departed.

Hermione once again found a pang of jealousy stab her chest at the observation. Banishing it quickly, before wondering why Lucius Malfoy did not actually have a glamorous escort at his side, if maybe only for the sake of appearances.  But then this was his home, she told herself. His son was here. Again it was most likely those impeccable manners, keeping certain things within the bounds of propriety.  The tingling strand of silk at her throat, reminded Hermione that he clearly had no such compunction, or indeed decorum when it came to her…..  A little tremor of smug pleasure danced along her spine at the notion.

As the evening had progressed, Hermione couldn’t help but notice every time that Lucius was out of her sight, or it would appear, vice versa. The little strand of green silk at her throat would warm and tingle, like gentle fingers caressing her skin, as if his fingers were caressing her skin. Reminding her of his presence. As if she needed any such reminders. Her body was constantly aware of him whether he was in the room or not and she had almost developed a sixth sense where he was concerned.

Knowing instinctively when he entered a room, she would find herself glancing up, more often than not finding her own eyes meeting that piercing grey gaze. She could pick his voice out above all others, his aristocratic tones drifting to her ears, and she would find herself losing the thread of her own conversation. A couple of times during the evening she had been drawn by his distinctive and exotic cologne, the heady smell almost pulling her towards him.  

 

Another glass of champagne appeared before her. This time it was clasped between the long, elegant fingers of the host himself. Those same long, elegant fingers brushing hers, as she took it from his outstretched hand, sending a quiver of excitement racing through her. It was only her second glass of the evening. Having taken the first to calm down, after her encounter with Severus Snape, she had found herself too wrapped up in further conversations for replenishments. She thanked him politely, feeling she could now relax and enjoy this one.

Lucius chinked the heavy tumbler he held, lightly against the thin flute, and Hermione took a swig of the chilled, faintly pink liquid. 

“Perfect.” She said, closing her eyes and allowing the tiny bubbles to tickle her nose.

“A thoroughly enjoyable evening all around. Although I am not sure that Severus would agree.”

Hermione opened her eyes and glared at Lucius Malfoy, the look on his face reminding her of Draco when he had done something he shouldn’t, she could help but laugh. “Having your Defence Against the Dark Arts Master hurled at a wall, isn’t the best way of passing your exams.”

Lucius chuckled, it was still a very alien, but nice sound to her ears.

“What did he say to you afterwards? I couldn’t help but notice a rather testy exchange.”

It was Hermione’s turn to laugh. “Well that’s one way of putting it.” She took another small sip from her glass “He said that it was a particularly powerful charm, which could only have been placed by an equally powerful wizard. And that one might be tempted to ask who?”

Her mimicry wasn’t in Draco’s league, but she attempted her best Severus Snape impersonation, eliciting a further low chuckle from Lucius.

“For a moment there I thought Severus had returned. And what exactly did you say, to irk the Professor so?”

Hermione saw something flicker in Lucius Malfoy’s face: “You wouldn’t have cared if I’d told him it was you, would you?”

His eyes once more glinted with wicked intensity, the never too far away smirk quirking his lips: “Not at all. The fact that he said the charm was placed by a powerful wizard is obviously very flattering. And that such a beautiful young woman is under my _protection_ is nothing to be ashamed of or to hide from.”

Hermione flushed at his compliment. “Actually, I was rather snooty with him, which having just been blasted against a wall in front of a party full of people, was probably not my wisest option. I told him he might well ask, but he wouldn’t necessarily get the answer he was looking for.”

This time it was an out and out laugh that emanated from the dark wizard: “Oh Bravo Hermione, it is always so much better to dual with the good Professor with words, it annoys him so much more.”

Hermione’s heart sank: “Remind me of that when I get my end of term grades.”

Despite the wry humour, Lucius noticed a touch of despondency in Hermione’s voice and moved closer: “It will perhaps teach him, not to touch things that he shouldn’t.”

His words were darkly menacing, but made Hermione feel strangely safe and protected. That he of all people could make her feel like this was something she still found difficult to comprehend.

He brushed his lips softly to her own: “45 minutes.” He whispered against her ear, stroking the little bow at her throat. 

It prickled at his touch, but were no violent green sparks this time, just the same delicious warmth that had ebbed through her body earlier. This time, the hot fingers were gloriously real. His hand skimming over her responsive breast, he tormented the aching peak through the thin layers of lace, with practiced ease. Hermione trembled at his surprisingly delicate touch, her body positively aching with anticipation as it arced towards him. This time the heat between her legs was a very physical response to his touch. Hot, wet need once again dampening her underwear with alarming speed.

She glanced around a little nervously, worried that the errant Draco might make his second untimely appearance of the day.

“Don’t worry my dear.” Lucius reassured her. “I am sure that Draco is far too wrapped up in the ample charms of Ms Fellows, to disturb us.” 

Hermione looked at him, her big brown eyes widening in surprise. The glances she thought she had noticed between Lucius Malfoy and Nemessia Fellows had obviously not been her imagination, he did know. 

His hand lazily left her breast, his soft fingers drifting slowly and sensuously up her arm. The rougher skin of his cheek rasped against hers as his tongue traced the shell of her ear.

“You don’t object?” She queried huskily, moving back to look into his face.

An indolent smile lifted Lucius Malfoy’s lips; “You may accuse me of many things Hermione, double standards is not one of them.”

Keeping him just a little bit at arm’s length, Hermione took another sip from her glass, her eyes firmly fixed on him.

“Quid Pro Quo?” She suddenly asked daringly.

This time there was no surprise in Lucius Malfoy’s handsome face, it was almost as if he knew what she was going to ask him. He nodded his head, his fathomless grey eyes narrowing and darkening almost to a shade of palest blue.

“It was your doing wasn’t it?”

In the light of the fire, those same beautiful eyes sparkled, his nostrils flared and the merest hint of a smirk, once again tugged at his sensual mouth. Hermione didn’t really need him to answer the question. His body language speaking volumes.

 “Let’s just say, I exploited the situation. I know Nemessia has a penchant for younger men.  Draco would have found her attentions very hard to resist, especially in such an illicit situation. She will be good for him, for now.” 

Despite her lustful haze and his distracting touch, Hermione recalled Draco’s words after the Halloween Feast, about his father approving. Well he was right about that, but she was certain he wouldn’t be quite so pleased, knowing he’d been virtually set up.

“There is much to be said for an older, more experienced lover.” His voice was hushed and velvety soft.

Putting her glass down Hermione moved back into Lucius Malfoy’s hold.

The clock had just chimed the half hour. 

“As I am beginning to appreciate.” She whispered against his mouth, feeling him smile beneath her lips.

Finding herself suddenly pulled fully into his embrace, and flush against the length of his hard, already aroused body, she yielded willingly to his sweet demands, it felt so good to be in his arms. She slipped her hands up his chest, over his broad shoulders and behind his neck, pulling him yet tighter against her own aroused body. Hermione’s brain was still struggling with the fact that this was Lucius Malfoy, her body not caring in the slightest as she ground herself against his straining erection.

This time it was Lucius who pulled away, leaving Hermione feeling bereft at the loss of contact, he tilted her face back to look at him. His grey eyes, still shining blue and glinting with an intensity that seemed to bore to her very soul.

“Once I have unwrapped my Christmas gift Hermione. I intend to enjoy it, every day until you return to school, is that clear?” 

She nodded, his words and the silky menace in his voice leaving Hermione unable to speak, or repress the little moan that escaped her lips. A simultaneous chill running through her burning body, but it wasn’t a chill of cold or of fear, it was one of delicious expectation. His thumb brushed the nape of her neck, an innocuous little movement that awakened every nerve in her body. Glancing at the grandfather clock, she was fast learning to hate, Hermione’s body practically screamed in frustration.

“Are you aware, some traditions allow you to open a gift on Christmas Eve?” She toyed teasingly with the little bow at her throat.

He nipped sharply on her bottom lip: “And as you are more than well aware Hermione, I am all for tradition.”

The familiar pull of apparition found Hermione in a room that Draco hadn’t shown her on the “edited highlights tour,” his father’s bedroom.

 

Lucius Malfoy took in the sight before him. Hermione Granger in his bedroom, on his bed.

Until a few months ago it was something he had never even thought about, let alone imagined seeing. Since his son had told him he had invited her to spend Christmas with them, it was all he had thought about, all he had imagined seeing.

Not so very long ago the thought of the young Muggle born, Gryffindor in any room in his house would have made his pureblood boil with revulsion.  That same pureblood boiled now, but for very different reasons entirely.

He recalled as a child being so excited about Christmas, finally getting to unwrap his presents. Excitement rushed through his veins now, but the excitement at unwrapping this _gift_ was anything but childlike. From the first instant he had seen her this evening, looking so beautiful and sexy as she descended the stairs with his son, Lucius Malfoy had practically ached for this moment.  He’d wanted her out of the dress that had tightened his trousers uncomfortably. The way it clung to her body, revealing just enough of everything, to drive him crazy with need. Her long slender limbs, more than a hint of milky white cleavage and the slim column of her throat, adorned with the sliver of green silk. Several times during the evening he had found himself smiling at the sound of her voice or better still her laughter across a room, his heart beating a little faster when he caught sight of her.   She wore no perfume of any kind but his nostrils were constantly filled with her scent.  And as for his usually well-disciplined body, he spent a good deal of the evening shifting uncomfortably, as his trousers tightened to accommodate his throbbing cock. But there would be no frantic pulling at the packaging. Lucius already had a good idea of the delights that lay beneath this wrapping, he intended to discover the rest, slowly and savour them.

Their apparition had given Hermione a much softer landing than she had anticipated. Finding herself in the middle of a huge four poster bed. Lucius Malfoy smiled ruefully at her. Shedding his outer robe and the waistcoat he wore, he stalked closer, moving with catlike grace, removing the small expanse of space between them.

It was only the second time she had seen him in a white shirt and he looked even more handsome formally attired in one, than he had done casually, the expensive cotton material, stretching lovingly across his broad chest.  He slipped his cufflinks from the sleeves, casting them absently onto a nightstand.  Undoing the top button at his throat, followed by the next and another. Hermione was transfixed, squirming at the subtle actions, which were erotic beyond reason.  He leant forward, one hand on either side of the knees that were tucked beneath her.

Her breathing increasing, her heart beating as if were about to burst from her chest, as he leant over her. His lustrous, platinum hair falling forward, consuming her in his intoxicating scent. His face was so close to hers, she could feel his warm breath on her face and smell the faint aroma of Firewhiskey. She could taste the Firewhiskey on his lips as they descended upon hers in a soft and seductive kiss. His tongue sliding against hers, sending pangs of pleasure racing through her. His mouth was setting her whole body on fire. Hermione instinctively arched towards him, her arms winding around his neck, pulling him closer.  She was desperate for his touch, and disappointed when he moved away.

 

His voice was low and very sexy as he spoke: “As I am the host this time, Hermione, tell me what you would like?”

Remarkably, Hermione knew exactly what she wanted from him. Without any hesitation, she raised a somewhat shaky hand, running it from _her_ little muscle that pulsed in his jaw, down his pale throat, through the smattering of exposed chest hair, to where the next button remained fastened on his shirt. She could feel his heart beating fast and rhythmically beneath her hand, his alabaster skin, gloriously smooth to her touch. Looking a little shyly into his face, she slipped the button through the crisp white material, revealing more of his toned chest.

“I want to see you,” She said, freeing the next button. “All of you.”

Reaching the dark waistband of his tailored trousers, she ran her finger lightly over the concealed zipper. A soft hiss of pleasure escaped from between his lips, as her feather light touch ghosted over his arousal.

 

The briefest hint of a smile drifted across his lips. His eyes, that mesmerising shade of grey blue once more, positively smouldered at her. Lucius took a further step back, his gaze not leaving hers for a moment. In slow unhurried movements, he began his impromptu strip. Tugging his shirt free from his trousers, he released the two remaining buttons, letting it slip from his shoulders and drop to the floor. Kicking of his shoes and removing his socks, he stood in just his trousers.

Hermione finally broke eye contact with him as his hand dropped to the fastenings on his trousers. Another two buttons were leisurely undone and the zipper gradually lowered. The heavy woollen material slid down over his thighs, revealing long muscled legs. Just as before, he wore no underwear, and Hermione found herself gasping at the sheer beauty and power of the totally naked, fully aroused male that stood before her.

For a moment she just looked or rather she just stared. The man was…….Hermione swallowed hard, the man was Lucius Malfoy and he was quite simply gorgeous. From the top of his sleek blonde head, to his ridiculously sexy feet, he was absolutely gorgeous.

For a man of his age he had an incredibly well toned, clearly well looked after, body.

In the light from the fire and the candles scattered about the room, Hermione could now see all of the very fine spattering of hair that covered his upper body, the trail that lead from his naval and still lower to where it thickened and encircled his proud, potent erection.

She had reached the point where looking was no longer enough, Hermione needed to touch him, to feel him in every sense of the word. She scuttled forward, slipping off of his bed, moving to within inches of him. She could feel the heat emanating from his naked body as she brushed her lips to his bare shoulder, her teeth lightly grazing his flesh. He felt so unbelievably good.

At her touch, a small groan escaped from him. Her lips soft and gentle against his skin, his cock jerked as he thought about them trailing over the rest of his body, perhaps taking him in her mouth. The groan grew louder as her warm tongue flicked over his flat nipple, her teeth once again nipping at his flesh.

He had fully intended, slowly divesting her of her dress and any other items of clothing she wore, but the dress had to go, now. He didn’t want to move, her mouth exquisitely torturing him, arousing him yet further, if that were possible.  With a brief utterance and some wandless magic, and it disappeared.  He felt her mouth still.

“That’s cheating.” She murmured against his chest.

The vibration and vision before him going straight to his groin, and he once again moaned in pleasure. What was this young woman doing to him? The stunning vision in grey, now a feast for his eyes in emerald green, the exact same shade she had turned the tiny strand of silk at her throat.

“Yes!” Was the only coherent word that he managed to form, his hand travelling up the back of Hermione’s thigh, his thumb slipping under the delicate lace of the teddy, his fingers biting into her pert arse, in unconcealed arousal.

She had enjoyed every moment of their previous encounters. Their first initial tryst in the school dungeons had been unexpected and dangerous, arousing feelings in Hermione she hadn’t thought possible. Her dormitory after the Halloween Feast, she had found herself wantonly contriving, desperate for sexual gratification from a man she once abhorred. And their chance encounter in Hogsmeade had been unplanned, fraught with the thrill of being discovered and inordinately satisfying all at once. This again, was something very different. Not that it made any sense but this seemed more personal.

For the first time Hermione could see all of the man who had haunted her blissfully erotic dreams, had given her so much pleasure, and had filled her so completely. For the first time she was able to properly touch his silky hard flesh. She writhed against her own desire, so powerful was her need for him. Her brain had finally caught up with her body. Yes this was Lucius Malfoy, but now, neither mind nor body cared. Both craving the fulfilment, only he could give. 

 

She felt his free hand tug at the small barrette that secured her hair, heard it fall lightly onto some surface or another, before that same hand wound its way into hair, pulling on it, angling her head back to give him complete access to her mouth. 

His kiss was hard and demanding, his lips crashing against hers. Parting her mouth he deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing into her mouth, twisting inside, exploring every inch, she met it with equal hunger. Their tongues duelling, not for dominance, but for the sheer pleasure they derived from it.  Hermione curled her tongue around his, flicking it and sucking on it. The action awakening _that_ side of her that only he provoked.  She wriggled free from his powerful grasp, avoiding the look on his face and not caring that she snagged her hair on his rings.

Hermione’s kiss shifted, her lips brushing over that fascinating little muscle that pulsed in his jaw. They trailed once more down his pale throat, touching his Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down.  This time her teeth nipped on both of his flat brown nipples, moving from one to the other, making each one harden as she licked and sucked on it. Her sharp teeth causing him to groan once more, she blew against the puckered flesh, her cool breath on his heated skin soothing and arousing them all at once. Down the centre of his chest, and lower, her tongue playfully dipping into his naval. Hermione slid down his body, dropping to her knees, she followed the trail of fine hair to his rigid shaft.

She licked her suddenly dry lips, as a little ripple uncertainty washed over her. This was something she had never done before, and up until now had never wanted to. Of course it was different with Lucius Malfoy, but then, _everything_ was different with Lucius Malfoy.

She stroked the taught skin of his erection with tentative fingers. The guttural sound that fell from his lips spurring her on. Hermione experimentally circled the tip of his swollen flesh with her tongue, thrilling at how it jerked to her touch.  She made a couple more hesitant swirls before inching lower, dragging her tongue languidly over his shaft and finally taking his ample length in her mouth. Barring her teeth she carefully slid her mouth back and forth. 

His body lunged forward involuntarily. He hadn’t enjoyed the delights of warm and surprisingly proficient mouth around his cock, in more years than he cared to remember, Narcissa had found the act distasteful. He allowed the inexorable pleasure to wave over him.

Hermione loved how his body gently thrust forward into her mouth. His moans and reactions to her ministrations giving her more confidence, she began to relax and found herself able to take more of him. Licking and savouring his silky rigid flesh, she explored every glorious inch of him. Flicking her tongue over the swollen tip, she toyed with the little ridge of skin on the clearly sensitive underside. Swallowing him as deeply as she could to enhance both of their pleasure.

“Merlin” He all but growled.

Raising her eyes she managed to glance briefly at him. His head was thrown back, his usually pale face bore a distinct flush, accentuated by the soft sheen of sweat. His eyes were closed and that look of pure unadulterated pleasure covered his handsome face.

Inexplicably or perhaps not, Hermione was suddenly reminded of her erotic novel, or to be more precise the passage that Lucius had read aloud.  Thinking at the time, how the author had exaggerated the character’s reactions, on the contrary, it would appear, her graphic description was supremely accurate.  With vixen like clarity she recalled the rest of the explicit text and how it had ended……….. 

She drew him deeper into her mouth, sucking harder, the action encouraging him to move. In response she felt his fingers tighten in her hair, his hips thrusting forward, pushing himself in as far as she would allow him to go.

As well as everything else, Lucius Malfoy tasted good. A salty little bead of moisture hitting her tongue, causing her hum gently. Never had Hermione imagined that indulging in this act could give her so much pleasure or make her feel so sexually powerful.

Lucius’ tolerance was already being sorely tested. But Hermione’s little hum of appreciation had left him fighting for control, trying to think of anything, but what she was doing to him. It was impossible, his body had total control, and the sensation was so far beyond erotic. The wet heat of her mouth was driving him insane with pleasure, each lick and suck driving him closer to the edge.  She was once again making react like a pubescent schoolboy. This wasn’t what he’d planned, this was hardly unwrapping and savouring slowly! 

He groaned, a long low sound, as her mouth continued to work its own brand of magic on his more than willing body. Part of him wanted to pull away, put her back in his bed and devour her slowly, another part of him was quite happy to remain exactly where he was and allow her to devour him.

 

Even with her total lack of experience Hermione could feel the subtle changes in his body. She felt his muscles tensing beneath her hands, his movements became a little more erratic, his breathing was becoming shallower and his aroused flesh swelled and throbbed against her tongue. The sensation thrilled her, her own body wet and aching with need, in response she squeezed her mouth tighter around him. Her hand moving instinctively of its own volition up his leg, caressing his inner thigh and curling around the base of his cock. Hermione found it gave her more freedom of movement and she slid her mouth deftly from where her hand, now coiled around him, to the leaking tip. She repeated the action a couple of times, feeling him surge forward to meet her. She almost let him fall from her mouth, her tongue swirling around him preventing it, flicking it back hard and taking him fully once more.

Lucius was losing it, he so was close now, feeling a familiar heat building in his groin and his muscles tensing. Her sinful mouth was drawing him faster and faster towards his release. He should pull out, it was the gentlemanly thing to do, but he couldn’t find the strength to move away, his body steeped in unstoppable pleasure. The momentary thought of emptying himself in her mouth was just too much and he thrust himself further into her willing mouth.

Hermione didn’t pull back, the strangled moan that fell from his lips, fuelling her own arousal and an almost agonising need to satisfy him completely. Again her mouth slackened around his rigid shaft, her tongue trailing from root to tip, savouring the salty essence that wept from him. Sheathing her teeth once more Hermione, squeezed him hard, edging back down his length. She heard him cry out, her name, a hoarse guttural sound ripped deep from within him, and a warning that he was about to come.  Hermione swept her tongue hard over him, and then she could feel him throbbing into her mouth, his hot thick seed spilling into her mouth. Hermione continued to stroke her tongue gently over him, milking him of everything he had. His groans of fulfilment echoing around the otherwise silent room. 

Hermione swallowed, shuddering as she savoured the intimate essence of him. A little whimper escaping her lips at the erotic taste. She found herself being pulled to her feet and she fell heavily against the solid mass of Lucius Malfoy. His breathing was still ragged and a soft sheen of sweat covered his upper body and face. His pupils were dilated with lust and an odd look settled on his face.

Hermione smiled at him, a wicked, impish smile. She wound her arms around his neck and into the hair which now clung to his perspiring face and body.

“Merry Christmas, Mr Malfoy.” She whispered against his lips.

 


	12. Merry Christmas Miss Granger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius Malfoy finally gets to "unwrap" his Christmas present, I hope he likes it.........and you do to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual thanks and apologies apply.

 

They had, quite literally fallen onto the bed. Lucius Malfoy’s heaviness was pressing her into the luxuriously soft down of his bedding, his sated body sprawled across her. Lucius still swathed in the afterglow of his potent release and Hermione trying to control her body that was throbbing with aching need.

His slightly damp mane of blonde hair, was partially across her face and breasts, like a silken shroud, its heady, intoxicating scent engulfing her. She wanted to wrap her legs around him, but was conscious of his spent and no doubt sensitive state.

As if sensing her apprehension, Hermione felt his weight shift, his teeth grazing her collar bone, his lips moving to soft flesh of her neck. Hermione found her body instinctively arching towards him, a small barely audible groan falling from his lips, and she stilled instantly.

Lucius lifted himself onto one elbow, a half smirk, half smile lifting his lips. He pushed an errant strand of hair from her face and kissed her, his tongue slipping into her mouth.

Who would have thought tasting himself on her, would be so erotic?  Now he wanted to taste her, enjoy the muskiness that had been filling his nostrils. Even after such a powerful orgasm, Lucius felt a little spark of heat touch his groin, at the thought.

He could feel her soft pliant body, cautiously shifting beneath him. His lips drifted leisurely across her hers, his fingertips ghosting up her leg.  He loved that she still wore those deliciously sensuous stockings and the delicate lace underwear, it was so sheer it felt like nothing against his own skin.  But he needed nothing; He needed to feel her bare flesh against his own, beneath his fingers and beneath his mouth. Reluctantly lifting himself from her and rising fully from the bed, Lucius proceeded to remove the remaining items of Hermione’s clothing.

Hermione recalled how sensuous his replacing her stockings had been, how she had fought to restrain herself as he had pulled the gossamer fabric over her limbs. Removing them took things to another level entirely and the fight was even harder. Taking his time, he rolled each one over her long limbs, peeling it off her foot, and dropping it carefully and theatrically to the floor. She gripped the cover on the bed so tightly, her knuckles where white. Her breasts rising and falling, her breathing becoming more strained as his fingers moved to the narrow straps on the teddy. Teasingly ensuring he brushed every bit of her exposed skin.

Even the simple removal of clothing, reached far beyond the realms of erotic. She was certain once he touched her in earnest, she would merely combust. Hermione lifted herself from the bed allowing him to remove it completely. She was now utterly naked, save that tiny strand of green silk that still encircled her throat. It no longer tingled or warmed to her thoughts, it didn’t need to. Her whole body was tingling and warming to the scorching touch of Lucius Malfoy. That scorching touch now moved to the tiny strand of green silk, with a sharp tug, the intricate little bow dissolved between his fingers, unravelling completely it fell against the bedding.  She knew exactly how it felt: Lucius Malfoy’s Christmas _gift_ was now well and truly _undone……………._

As he leaned over her like some retaliatory Roman God, Hermione couldn’t help but take in his naked form once more. Her eyes drifting appreciatively over him, he was quite simply beautiful. His upper body was exceptionally well toned, but not excessively so.  His legs were long, his hips sturdy but lean. The alabaster skin which covered his muscled frame was almost flawless, like white marble. It was too much of a temptation and Hermione reached out to touch him. He captured her hand in his and raised it to his lips, kissing the back and then turning it to place his soft lips in the palm.  The action fanning the flames that were already lapping at her body. Her heart beat frantically, her body hungry for his touch.  His flaccid cock nestled amidst a thatch of dark blonde hair, but even unaroused, well physically at least, he was proud and impressively endowed. Hermione drew her eyes back to his face, to be met with a raised eyebrow and a full blown Malfoy smirk. The sheepish look on her face was purely for effect. 

His retribution was absolute, leaving Hermione entirely helpless at the assault on her already overloaded senses. His grip on her upper arms was vicelike, his mouth feasting upon hers with ferocious intensity, but he met no resistance. His tongue tangled with hers, Hermione willingly surrendering herself to his hunger, and thriving on it.

Releasing her mouth, his lips travelled over her heated skin, slowly down her neck, leaving a trail of burning desire in their wake. He reached the soft swell of her breasts and took one of the rosy buds gently between his sharp teeth, biting oh so lightly. Hermione all but screamed at the sensation that filled her body. The scream turning into a helpless moan as he suckled and laved on the sensitive puckered skin. Her body arcing off the bed craving more.  His tongue was torturous, licking and sucking on the hardened peak, first one breast, and then the other. Closing his mouth tightly around one taught bud, he drew it deeply into the moist cavern, his hand drifting to its twin, twirling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Hermione’s fingers wound their way into his flaxen hair, anchoring him to her breast, for fear that he might stop. He did, but only to move his divinely torturous mouth elsewhere. His other hand came to replace his mouth, both sensitised peaks now being stroked and pinched between his deft fingers. His tongue glided down her body, across the flat plane of her stomach, stopping as she had done to dip teasingly into the belly button. Hermione cried out as his mouth reached the damp heat of her core.

She squirmed below him, her body tensing slightly at the alien sensation. Oral sex had been something that Hermione had neither given nor received, up until now. She gasped as his mouth caressed her with an intimacy that she had never known or experienced.

Lucius inhaled the glorious musky scent of her arousal, his mouth drifting through the small mass of damp, honey brown curls, before tracing it across her shaven outer lips. Their silky, sensuous feel against his own was unlike anything he had ever enjoyed before. He ran his inquisitive tongue over her seam, feeling his own body hardening once more in response. Slipping through the wet folds, he teased the bundle of throbbing nerves with feather light licks, long and short, fast and slow.

Hermione was being driven insane with need, caught on a knife edge of wanting the final pleasure of release or savouring the glorious ascension of reaching it.

His mouth was devilish, his licks becoming firmer, pressing more forcibly against her most sensitive spot. But Hermione hungered for more, writhing against his precision, grinding her hips against his mouth. She groaned in absolute pleasure as he dipped inside her, moving languidly out and then pushing back in, savouring her juices as they rushed to coat his persistent tongue, spreading them over her already sodden flesh. He sucked harder on the taught nub of burning pleasure, pulling it into his mouth and twirling his tongue around it.

Lucius wanted to make her come, he wanted to push her over the edge, and as she was falling he wanted to bury himself deep inside her and push her right back up again.  He could feel her swelling against his tongue, her taste making his cock throb. As his name tumbled from her lips in agonised need, Lucius flicked his hot tongue harshly over her.

Hermione couldn’t hold back any longer, so exquisite was his mouth against her aching flesh.  She cried out in ecstatic abandon as her body dissolved into wave after wave of undiluted pleasure. Thrashing and convulsing beneath him as every cell in her body was flooded with sensation. The white light that exploded behind her eyes, robbed her of everything that wasn’t connected to the exquisite delight of him; his mouth, his hands, and his body. Hermione was in a freefall of spiralling blissful ecstasy, surpassing anything she had ever felt, even with him. 

Through her euphoric haze, she felt him move. A tiny part of her brain wanted to scream at the notion, but her mind was swimming. It was as if she had been drugged, every other part of her was totally under the influence of pleasure. And then she felt it, felt him.

His skilled but malleable tongue had been replaced, by his equally accomplished but decidedly more rigid shaft. The swollen head, pressing at her entrance, wet from his saliva and her own juices it slipped into her. He thrust himself slowly forward, Hermione raised herself to meet him, giving him better access. She cried out his name, in time to his languorous penetration, hearing him groan low in his throat, as he seated himself to the hilt.

Lucius felt her move under his unexpected weight, his cock throbbing gently inside of her hot, slick body. Merlin she felt so good.  Her climax ebbing he could feel her inner walls shuddering and fluttering around him. He wanted to take her back up to those heights once more and to feel her climax around him.

Hermione whimpered as he withdraw slowly from her body, pressing back in with a suddenness that inflamed all the secret places inside of her. Her inner walls tightening around his length, her legs tightening around his lower back, drawing him closer   He eased back again, sliding his cock from her heated centre, instinctively Hermione rotated her hips against the action. Lucius grunted in response, burying himself to the hilt once more. His mouth crashed down on hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, mirroring the action of his cock, which lunged relentlessly into her slick heat. 

He moaned her name against her mouth, Hermione bit down hard on his lip, tasting blood, her eyes flew open to look into his. The colour of an angry sea, they were filled with lust, a lust clearly fuelled by the sudden nip of pain.  Her tongue licked at the small swollen bite, her eyes not leaving his, she thrust against him, her legs tightening around him.

Lucius Malfoy lunged back at her, she was sucking him in, her muscles so tight around him it almost hurt. His fingers bit into her upper arms, as he thrust himself harder and harder into her willing body. His hips moving wildly against hers.

Hermione could feel that familiar ball of heat rising once more, this time from deep within her, it swirled, vortex like and rose rapidly, pushing her to the very edge. With every glorious lunge Lucius grunted softly, his usually pale face coloured with passion and exertion. The animalistic sounds and look of sheer exhalation exciting her even more. She could feel him buried so deep inside her, and his rhythm began to falter. She wanted to fall over the edge with him, clinging to him, she abandoned herself to his passion, to the feelings that were racing through her body.  Feeling him stiffen suddenly, Hermione thrust herself again Lucius. Her body exploded with his. A guttural moan falling from his mouth as she all but screamed his name with her second earth shattering orgasm. She could feel him pumping and emptying inside of her, her body tightening around him as he too came long and hard for a second time.

Breathing heavily his head fell against Hermione’s shoulder, raising it slightly, his lips grazing her ear, he whispered:

“Merry Christmas, Miss Granger.”

 


	13. Master Has Given Hermione A Frock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tis the season to be jolly..........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea where this "smutty one shot" is going but as long as you continue to comment and give me kudos I am happy to write. Usual apologies apply, and I've found a typo or two reading back so I hope it hasn't spoilt you enjoyment.

 

 

If the Malfoy portraits had watched sternly as Hermione had crept silently by them previously, as she tiptoed by them now, in the wee small hours, shoes in hand, they positively glowered at her.

Much as she wanted to wake in Lucius Malfoy’s bed or to be more accurate his arms, courage had failed her. He might intend to enjoy “his Christmas gift” every day whilst she was here, but that didn’t mean he wanted to wake up with it. Hermione was also very conscious of Draco.  

She had lain listening to his gentle even breathing for some time, careful not to wake him she had finally disentangled herself from his warm embrace. His arm had been casually thrown over her, one leg resting against hers and his joyously messy hair tickling her shoulder. 

Safely back in her room, Hermione, had once more removed her clothes and slipped between the sheets on her own bed. She hadn’t bathed or bothered with nightwear, savouring the smell and feel of Lucius Malfoy etched on her still tingling skin. Snuggling into the luxurious cotton bedding she closed her eyes, drifting slowing into the arms of Morpheus.

 

Hermione had gleaned most of her information about the Christmas traditions at Malfoy Manor from Draco’s reminiscences on the train.  She obviously knew about the parties, and that they enjoyed a family lunch, although whether it did actually involve a roast turkey and Christmas pudding remained to be seen. She had spotted a few presents under the enormous tree in the hallway, but wasn’t sure if they were simply for decoration or for bestowing upon someone, she’d added her own beautifully wrapped packages to the small pile, none the less, and ducked into the kitchen.

Chilty and Livy were nervously scuttling around Draco who was practically slumped over the large wooden table, a boiling cup of something steaming before him.

He looked up sleepily from his wooden pillow, a mindless smile on his tired looking face. 

“Merry Christmas Granger.” He beamed at Hermione. “Did you have a good night?”

Hermione flushed at his words, thankfully the kitchen was not the brightest room in Malfoy Manor and her blushes were spared.

“Merry Christmas Ferret. Not as good as you by the look of it.”  She retorted with amusement, although not entirely sure her statement was particularly accurate.

His smile was sheepish, his blue eyes, tinged with a hint of red. “Well unless Snape turned out to be a red hot older man, who plied you with my father’s expensive champagne all night and shagged you senseless, probably not.”

Hermione’s face and neck flushed at the inference. She thankfully couldn’t attest to Severus Snape’s credentials, but his father certainly fitted the bill. Covering her guilt quickly, she smacked the rather fragile looking Draco.

“Urgh thanks for putting that revolting image in my head and on Christmas morning too. Sex with Snape! I think I would rather, wade through troll bogies.”

The mouthful of coffee Draco had been about to swallow sprayed all over the kitchen table, his spluttering and laughter reverberating around the room.

“An interesting analogy.” Came a voice from behind the two school friends.

The house elves were thrown into a state of apoplexy at the clearly disconcerting site of the Master in the kitchen, from their reaction, this was not a regular occurrence. 

They were not the only ones in a state of disconcertion at Lucius Malfoy’s arrival. But whilst they might be about to boil part of themselves, Hermione parts were boiling of their own accord, the temperature rising under his amused stare.

 

Draco however seemed alarmed, obviously wondering just how much of the conversation his father had been party to.

“I am not sure if I would like to know how it came about or not.”

Lucius looked from his son to Hermione, they both appeared as though they had been caught with their fingers in a box of Honeydukes finest confectionery. Neither readily volunteering an explanation, however Lucius felt certain it had something to do with his son’s disappearance last night and his somewhat fatigued appearance this morning.

To the utter horror of the house elves and clearly to the surprise of his son, Lucius Malfoy pulled out one of the heavy wooden chairs and sat down, ordering breakfast tea as if he were in some five star hotel. Raffy appeared with a delicate china cup clutched in a bony and rather shaky hand, which Lucius eyed dubiously. Setting it down on the table, Master added a dash of milk.

“Merry Christmas Draco.” He said taking a sip of his beverage.

“Merry Christmas father”. The younger Malfoy paused, looking directly at his father. “Aren’t you going to wish G..Hermione a merry Christmas?”

Hermione saw the devilish glint in Lucius Malfoy’s grey eyes. His mouth curling indolently in an easy smile. She held her breath, waiting to see what he would say to his son.

“Hermione and I were together at the turn of midnight, festive greetings were exchanged then.”

She fought back the urge to laugh, Lucius’ articulate words and imperious air, making the exchange sound so proper and respectable, mundane even. She noticed him run a finger absently over his bottom lip, catching her eye as he did so. Heat suffused Hermione’s body as she recalled sinking her teeth into the tender flesh, drawing his blood, and exactly how they had exchanged Christmas greetings.

Draco didn’t question why Hermione and his father were together at the stroke of midnight. Conspicuous by his absence, he obviously assumed they were still enjoying the remnants of the party.

“Right.” He said returning to his mug of piping hot something. Keen to keep his father away from the events of the previous evening, Draco changed the subject.

“So when do open our presents, now like we used to when I was little?”

Lucius Malfoy regarded his son with an air of amused disapproval.

“As you know Draco and I am sure Hermione is aware.” His grey eyes twinkled at the reference. “I am all for keeping up with tradition.”

Both, Hermione and Draco flushed at his words, but, for very different reasons.

“I feel that my son’s keenness to uphold tradition, has more to do with impatience. A least now however, the gifts beneath the tree, do not get, poked, prodded, rattled or shaken in the lead up to today.”

Hermione noticed Draco’s flush deepen at his father’s words, and he cast his eyes shamefully around the room.

Lucius continued with what was clearly an enjoyable revelation for him: “I put that down merely to the fact you were away at school, otherwise I am sure they would have suffered a similar scrutiny.”

Lucius however, it seemed was more than happy to comply with his son’s request and having finished his tea, they went in search of festive gifts. 

Hermione was a little surprised when both, father and son walked right by the huge Christmas tree in the hallway. She had completely forgotten about the smaller tree, which was in the sitting room. She hurriedly removed her parcels, following Lucius and Draco into the more intimate setting. Doing her best to surreptitiously relocate her gifts under this tree.

Lucius sat elegantly by the fire in an armchair, whilst Draco practically dived under the beautifully decorated Norwegian spruce.  The pile of presents under this tree looked much the same as those, which had clearly been for display purposes in the hallway. She was thankful that she had brought a couple of little extra presents to go along with the quills she had purchased. But she felt certain that would not amount to very much amidst the array of Malfoy offerings.

The first gift that Draco retrieved was a small rectangular shaped parcel in brightly coloured scarlet paper. Looking rather pleased with himself he handed it to Hermione: “This is from me.” He said extending his hand.

Hermione thanked him graciously, he looked like a child, eagerly awaiting her reaction on the opening of the gift. Both sets of Malfoy eyes fell upon her, as she sat cross legged on the rug in front of the fire. Hermione suddenly realised she had sat at Lucius’ feet and shifted slightly back. Impressed with Draco’s choice of colours, she carefully tugged on the gold ribbon securing the brightly coloured paper and removed it, watching Draco shift impatiently out of the corner of her eye. As the paper fell to the floor, Hermione stared in astonishment. Inside was a beautiful red leather journal, her initials HJG, were embossed at an angle in one corner. Inside were pages and pages of blank ivory parchment.

“Oh Draco, its lovely!” Hermione stroked her fingers over the empty pages. “Thank you so much.” Instinctively she threw her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek.

He squirmed and blushed in her embrace, conscious of his father’s amused gaze. But loving the fact that she was clearly so delighted with his choice of gift.

“Really, you like it?” He asked, managing to wriggle free from her grasp.

“Of course I do, it’s just perfect.”

“I am not very good at choosing presents.” His tone was surprisingly bashful, as he continued to bask, in Hermione’s compliments. “I thought you could use it for notes or write girly stuff in it.” He seemed to be digging himself a bit of a hole, his embarrassment increasing at his own suggestion.

“Like what could be worse than wadding through troll bogies.” Lucius offered helpfully from his vantage point next to the fire.

This time it was Hermione’s turn to flush, Draco rather startlingly laughing at his father’s recommendation. Watching in amusement as Draco once more fished amongst the pile of presents. He was like a diver searching for treasure. This time he immerged with two small almost identical parcels.

“These are really soft.” He announced, squeezing one in each curious hand.

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at her school friend. Clearly little had changed since Draco was a child, just as Lucius had suspected he still enjoyed poking and prodding the presents.

“Those are from me. They are just a little bit of fun……I couldn’t resist” She thought for a moment as to whether she should explain the significance behind what Muggles referred to as stocking fillers. She thought perhaps it best to wait until they had been opened. All of a sudden the last minute additions didn’t seem like such a good idea.

Draco read the labels, asserting which one was for him and which was for his father.  Hermione watched as the small light parcel floated through the air. By the time Lucius’ had caught his, Draco had all but ripped the wrapping off of his, the younger Malfoy practically shrieking with laughter at the seven pairs of violently coloured socks, with the days of the week emblazoned on them. He looked from Hermione to his father.

“Oh please tell me you brought father the same.”

Hermione feigned innocence at her friend, returning her gaze to Lucius who unwrapped his parcel with more restraint.

“Coward.” Draco said, his voice steeped in disappointment, as his father removed a very smart, very boring pair of black silk socks from the tissue paper inside the Christmas wrapping.

Hermione smiled sweetly at him, returning her gaze cautiously to the elder Malfoy who now had his socks completely out of the wrapping. A wry smile crossing his lips as he held the seemingly boring socks aloft, turning them for his son to see. In very elegant, bright red script, on the back of the socks were the words “left” and “right”.

Draco looked at Hermione, and then at his father and dissolved into hysterical laughter.

“It’s kind of a Muggle Christmas, not tradition exactly, but if you have male friends or relatives and you don’t know what to buy them, you buy socks. Some people just end up with countless pairs of socks for Christmas. I just thought it might be …..err fun.”

Well Draco clearly thought it was, he loved his colourful footwear and was still struggling not to laugh at his father’s. Hermione was unsure what he found more amusing, the socks themselves or the look on Lucius Malfoy’s face. She had to admit it was a tough call.

The next package that Draco retrieved from his dive was another gift from himself. This was also a small rectangular shape, the paper, a more sobering colour than Hermione’s had been, it was a deep shade of purple. He rose from the floor and handed it soberly to Lucius.

“Merry Christmas father.”

Hermione noted a hint of apprehension in his voice, and felt almost as if she were intruding on something. But she couldn’t help but watch with interest, wondering what Draco had given his father.

Lucius’ long fingers, dealt nimbly, with the dark wrapping, revealing another book. This one had no blank pages, just lots of text and was entitled, A Tale of Ancient Runes. 

Hermione noticed his face light up, his grey eyes bright with pleasure.

“Thank you Draco, this is wonderful. I have been looking for a copy of this for some time now.  For someone who allegedly isn’t very good at choosing gifts, I think you have done perfectly.”

Draco flushed at his father’s words, but for the first time Hermione noted, they were from pride not from embarrassment. Lucius was clearly delighted with his gift and would no doubt be even more thrilled if he knew just how hard Draco had worked to get a copy of the rare book.

“Thanks Granger.” He muttered to her, as he dived back under the tree.

Hermione hadn’t asked him what he had wanted the book for, when he had enlisted her help to track it down, somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it had something to do with his father and did everything she could to help him find a copy.

The next two gifts retrieved by the younger Malfoy were again from Hermione.  Two very long, tastefully wrapped boxes, adorned with ribbons, tied into intricate little bows. One was of course in silver and green for Draco. For Lucius she had opted for black and silver. Draco of course couldn’t wait to open his, and more paper was hastily shredded.

“Hermione, it really wasn’t necessary for you to go to the trouble of buying a gift for me.” Lucius’ expressive grey eyes fell on the young woman sitting comfortably at his feet. That she had unwittingly brought so much into his home was gift enough.

She was about to speak when she found herself in a bearlike hug from Draco.

“Granger it’s fabulous, I love it. I’ve been going on for weeks about my quill.”

Robbed of breath from the grip around her ribs Hermione struggled to speak.

“Don’t I know it Ferret, I had to shut you up somehow.” She saw Lucius raise his eyebrow not sure if it was at their easy expression of affection for each other, or that they had once more reverted back to their school nicknames.

“It’s perfect, the colours and a great nib too. You’re not bad at this presents lark.” He nudged her playfully with his bony elbow, turning his attention to his father who was slowly unwrapping the black and silver box that he had been given.

Hermione waited almost with baited breath as Lucius Malfoy opened the lid. She knew immediately that his smile had nothing to do with the gift itself, but more to do with the afternoon on which she had purchased it. She met his eyes with equally knowing recollection.

“As my son so eloquently put it……Granger it’s fabulous, I love it. Thank you.”

Unlike his son, Lucius Malfoy was less demonstrative, however Hermione was shocked when he raised her hand to his lips:

“A most generous gift, chosen I am sure at length and with extreme care.”

She could tell Lucius was baiting her, she didn’t mind, it was fun to have little things that only they shared.

“Yes I have to say, I was in Scrivenshafts for a lot longer than I had anticipated, but obviously it was worth it.”

“Oh indeed it was Hermione, there is no question about it.”

Their eyes remained locked, Hermione was the first to look away, mindful of the fact Draco might pick up on something. How silly of her, turning to come face to face with his backside as he was yet further under the tree. 

“No prizes for guess what this is.” He said pulling out a broomstick shaped parcel.

Hermione studied it carefully, before suggesting it could be tennis racket. Lucius’ looked at Draco, shaking his head, clearly Hermione was missing something.

“I doubt it would improve his game, Draco does not really have a flare for the sporting.”

Obviously from the looks exchanged between father and son, Draco’s lack of sporting prowess was a bone of contention.

“That aside, my son was hardly what you would call subtle when he suggested that the latest Nimbus looked like a, how was you put it Draco, nice piece of kit.”

Having recovered remarkably quickly from the jibe, surprising what the latest technology in broomsticks could do, and fully aware of what the gift from his father was, Draco none the less went about ripping at yet more festive paper. A grin splitting his face from ear to ear as he thanked his father, and promised to let Hermione have a go.

“Hmm thanks, but I do not want to be responsible for any mishaps to your shiny new broomstick, maybe when it’s a few months old.”

His father’s aristocratic tones interrupted their merriment.

“There are a few more gifts Draco, but do not get too excited, they are more for practicality than anything else. There is a further one for you and a couple for Hermione.”

Draco once more dived under the now rather bare looking spruce. Just as Lucius had said there were a further three gifts under the tree. Two which looked identical and a rather odd shaped parcel for Hermione, which Draco passed to her.

Yet more wrapping met a dismal fate at the hands of the young wizard and he looked at his father in disbelief as its contents were revealed.

“Father!” he exclaimed his voice an octave or so higher than usual. “You are having a New year’s Eve Masquerade ball?”

The joy and surprise in his face was palpable, his blue eyes shining in incredulity at the artistic mask he held in his hand. Hermione had opened the matching package, to find a similar item, hers was much more ornate, and exotically feminine.

“I am, I thought it was about time we had one, it has been too long.”

Hermione saw that faraway look of sadness cloud his grey eyes once more, those same grey eyes suddenly meeting hers and softening.

“Hermione, before you open your other parcel, I hope you do not think me being too forward in gifting these items to you.”

Ever the gentleman, Hermione thought.

“As I said it is purely for the sake of practicality, springing such a party on you, in the midst of nowhere and at this time of year, the appropriate attire might have been difficult to come by. I am sure you can make any necessary adjustments.”

Hermione stared at Lucius Malfoy and then at the beautifully wrapped, oddly shaped package that Draco had pushed in her direction. Surely he hadn’t, no there was no way that Lucius Malfoy had…….

The expensive looking shoe box sat on an equally expensive looking dress cover. Yes indeed he had, Lucius Malfoy had brought clothes. Lucky I am not a house elf she thought, her mind going off on a tangent at the ridiculousness of the situation. She would be celebrating her freedom, ironically for Hermione, the scenario seemed oddly reversed, but she didn’t care, in fact it felt good.

She slid the lid of the box to expose a stunning pair of silver sandals, the heel was at least four inches and they were encrusted in tiny crystals. They were of course the right size. She felt like a cross between Cinderella and a child getting her first ballet slippers. Grudgingly putting them to one side, she slid down the zipper on the dress bag. A mass of silk the exact same shade as the shoes, spilled from its confines, Hermione ran her hand over the material. It felt divine. She was going to leave it in the bag and look at it properly later, her face was already burning with awkwardness.

“Come on Granger, take it out, and let’s have a proper look.”

She caught Lucius eye, letting his son’s use of her school name go, he was clearly more intrigued by her reaction to his unusual gifts.

She took the voluminous expanse of silk from the cover, lifting it as she rose to her feet. She had to admit one thing, Lucius Malfoy had exquisite taste. The shoes were stunning, the column of silver grey silk, took her breath away, with its beauty and simplicity. The dress was much longer at the back, clearly indicating it had a train, Hermione turned it around on the hanger. Her jaw dropping, at the cowl back, intricate pleats and delicate guipure lace.

“WOW” Said Draco, almost as stunned as Hermione. Clearly he saw nothing remotely personal or untoward in the things his father had bestowed on his friend. Like his father he just saw them as practicality.

“Please tell me you are not offended, Hermione.”

“I am many things right at this moment Lucius, however offended is not one of them. They are beautiful, but I couldn’t possibly.”

“Yes you can.” Lucius interrupted the words he knew were coming. “As I said, I have sprung a party on you, which requires full evening dress, it is the least I can do. I am glad that you approve, and it would appear so does my son.”

Draco seemed to forget who he was talking to: “I am not sure if I should be worried that you have such good taste in women’s clothes.” Suddenly realising he was talking to his father, he looked up abruptly, a flicker of fear crossing his face.

 The momentary harsh look in Lucius cold grey eyes, vanished almost instantaneously, the still alien sound of his laughter filling the room.

 


	14. Traditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Lunch at Malfoy Manor.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had some lovely comments on this story. I am so glad you are enjoying it. As always apologies for any errors in whatever form they might take.
> 
> I hope you enjoy my take on Christmas in the Wizarding World (even in August)

 

Much to Hermione’s delight and if she was being honest, surprise, Christmas lunch at Malfoy Manor, did indeed consist of what she considered all the Muggle trimmings. A roast turkey, far too big for the three of them, and of course a pudding, set on fire having been coated in brandy.  She was also amused to find crackers on the beautifully dressed table. They had however been a lot louder and decidedly more explosive than the ones which had graced the Granger household.  Pulling the heavy paper with both Draco and Lucius, had resulted in the room being lit up with a variety of sparks, colours and bangs, more worthy of bonfire night than Christmas lunch. To her amusement their content was also very similar, a rather useless gift, a totally unfunny joke and in this case a wizard type hat, which was still, either far too small or just fell over your ears. It appeared that she and Draco got the former, whilst Lucius, who initially refused to even entertain the idea of putting the green paper creation anywhere near his head got the latter, it promptly slipped over his long sleek hair, almost totally obscuring his face. 

Draco’s mumbling of the fact, it was an improvement earning him a swift kick under the table from Hermione.

Watching father and son interact during the morning and subsequently over lunch, she couldn’t help but notice the difference in both of them. Casting her mind back but a few short months, to when Draco had first returned to Hogwarts. He’d still been that spoilt brat she’d met all those years ago. The hateful child who had tormented her, the annoying teenager who had called her vile names and used his father’s position to get what he wanted. Lucius had still been her nemesis, former Death Eater and follower of the Dark Lord, none of it was really so very long ago.

Even in the few days that they had been here, the difference was almost unbelievable. At times she had overstepped the mark with her outspokenness, with both father and son, but if this was the result, she really didn’t care. Watching Draco, it was almost as if everything before had been a pretence, as if he were playing a part. He was expected to be afraid of Lucius Malfoy, it was the done thing to be bullied by his father, now after all this time he could just be his son, in the normal sense of the word. Lucius for his part, some twenty years late perhaps, was actually enjoying being a father, was enjoying his son and all that went with it. Hermione put her frivolous psychoanalysis to one side, allowing herself to simply enjoy the day, and quite astonishingly the company.

Back in the sitting room, Draco had promptly fallen asleep on one of the large couches in front of the blazing fire, he now snored softly as Hermione looked out of one of the large windows. The sleet from yesterday, had turned into snow, and for Christmas day Malfoy Manor had been blessed with a light dusting of snow. The scene was positively picturesque and Hermione contemplated a little walk around the grounds. She heard the door open, Lucius Malfoy had returned, he was dressed for outdoors, in a long thick cloak. He held Hermione’s coat in his hand and smiled at his sleeping son.

“Another somewhat lesser known Malfoy Christmas tradition” He observed, gesturing Draco’s prostrate form. “I knew it wouldn’t take long. I took the liberty of asking your house elf to get your coat, your boots are in the hallway.  I thought perhaps you might like to take a stroll with me?” He held out her coat.

A silly little rush of excitement coursed through Hermione’s veins. She hadn’t been alone with Lucius since the previous evening and thrilled at the prospect now.

“I would love to, I was just looking out of the window thinking how nice it would be to stretch my legs and enjoy some fresh air.” She slipped into the coat he gallantly held up for her and belted it tightly, popping on the woollen gloves that she found in the pocket.

Her boots were, as he said, waiting for her in the hallway and she put them on.  Lucius lead her through the kitchen and out of a back door, a blast of cold refreshing air greeted them and Hermione inhaled deeply, burying her hands in her pockets. 

Lucius watched the action a disappointed look on his face and extended his arm to the young woman at his side. His blood warmed and he felt a boyish excitement invading his body as she took it and huddled against him.  He’d lost count of the amount of times in the last few hours, he wanted to reach out and touch her soft skin, brush his lips to hers. He’d envied his son being able to take her in his arms and just hug her. He’d felt a vicious spark of jealousy, when she had kissed Draco on the cheek, thanking him for her present. Now he had her to himself.

“I thought we might walk down to the walled gardens, there is a nice view from there and if it isn’t too cold we might sit for a while.”

Hermione didn’t speak, frightened that if she did she would break the glorious spell she seemed to be under, in reply, she simply gripped his arm tighter and let him lead the way, falling easily in step with his long measured stride.

As Lucius had said the gardens were not at the best in winter, they were however still beautifully maintained. And whilst there were no spectacular blooms or colours on display, even under the thin layer of snow, she could see, the topiary was masterful and the lawns and shrubs were beautifully manicured.   She stopped to admire just one of several water features that adorned the gardens. Sculpted in the shape of a peacock, coloured water, spouted from its back in various places, giving the effect of its plumage, amidst the bright white snow, it was simply stunning. 

“It’s beautiful.” She said turning to face Lucius.

The cold air had chilled his pale face, and made his cheeks a little pink. Instinctively she reached up touching a woollen finger to one.

“As are you.” He replied, bending his head and capturing her lips with his. Her face was cold, he could feel it against his own, but her lips were warm and responded to him with a fiery passion that took his breath away. He pulled her closer to him, their layers of clothing preventing any intimate contact but he could feel her delicious shape against him, and his body still responded with an ardour as if they were naked.

Hermione’s gloved hands wound their way around his neck and she pulled herself closer to him. His mouth felt so sensuous against hers, her tongue traced the seam of his cool lips, she felt them part and she slipped it into his warm mouth.  It moved around slowly, feeling the little ridge of raised skin where she had nipped him the previous evening. Running it over his sharp teeth, tracing the soft palate and finally sliding erotically along his own.

He deepened the kiss, his hands moving down her spine, bringing her flush against him.  Even through the layers of thick clothing they wore, there was no masking his arousal. She heard him moan against her mouth, his strong arms tightening around her. Passion and desire flowed through her. Suddenly he broke the kiss.

“Why weren’t you in my bed when I woke up this morning?” He rasped in accusatory tone. His grey eyes burning bright with emotion.

Hermione pulled back slightly from him, her face searching his: “I was scared” She admittedly honestly, watching his face change in wonder.

“Of me?”

“In a way.” Hermione struggled for the words she wanted. “I wasn’t sure if you would want me…. I mean I didn’t know how you would. Oh bugger……”

An indulgent smile lifted Lucius Malfoy’s beautiful mouth, all Hermione wanted to do was kiss him.

“You didn’t know if I would want to wake up and find you in my bed?” He finished for her.

“Yes” She whispered, a little afraid of his answer. “Just because, just because we ..…” Again words failed her.

“Had sex.” He again finished for her.

“Yes, just because we had sex, didn’t mean that you would want to find me in your bed when you woke up.”

Lucius regarded her earnestly, how sweet that she would think such a thing, how naive and how very silly.

“You think, after what we shared last night, I wouldn’t want you in my bed? Hermione, the first time we were together in your dormitory. I told you, had circumstances been different, I would have happily spent the night in that very small bed of yours.  Had it not been for observing certain proprieties here, I would have just had you installed in my room. So another thing you will do well to remember whilst you are here,” His menacing tone was shrouded in velvet. “I am more than happy to wake up next to you, in whosever bed that might be.”

“And what about Draco.” She asked tentatively.

“My son has his own bed, he can find his own fun.”

Hermione couldn’t repress her laughter. “That isn’t exactly what I meant.” She chided the dark wizard, whose arms she was still firmly encircled in.

“I know, but I like teasing you” His voice was soft and warm. “Draco is old enough to accept and understand certain things. But I do appreciate your concern for his feelings, which I respect and admire.

His words and admission sent a little rush of pleasure through Hermione. She snuggled into the warmth of his fur trimmed cloak, savouring the intoxicating scent of him.

“Do you still want to walk?” He asked against her hair.

“Yes, it lovely out here, and selfishly I get you all to myself.”

Lucius tilted her face up to look at him, her brown eyes shining, and her pretty face rosy with cold.  The thought of having her all to himself with no one else to consider, hmmm………….

They continued to walk, enjoying the views, but the temperature began to drop considerably so they decided a sit in the walled garden would have to be saved for another day.

Lucius excused himself when they returned to the house, and Hermione went to see if Draco had roused himself. He was stretched drowsily on the same couch, looking like he had no intention of moving any time soon.

“Hey Granger, sorry I must have dozed off, I am not much of a host am I?”

Laughing, Hermione slid into one of the large armchairs, tucking her now bare feet under her.

“Well like you said, you father is an excellent host, the weather was better today so we went for that walk in the garden, they really are quite beautiful, even at this time of year.”

Draco stretched lazily: “Urgh far too energetic for me.”

“It was a good job I told Nemessia, you wouldn’t be able to help her out then.”

Lucius had re-joined them in the sitting room, he was holding a brandy and made himself comfortable in the seat opposite Hermione, who glanced from him to his son. She noticed the expression on Draco’s face change, he looked as if he were about to spring from his reclining position, but obviously thought better of it, casually asking his father what he meant.

Crossing his long legs, Lucius brushed an imaginary something from his trousers. Hermione noticed that conspiratory look on his face and instinctively knew he had been up to something.

“Nemessia just floo called me, apparently you’d told her you have been giving Hermione flying lessons and how much you had enjoyed it. She has her niece and nephews with her for a few days and wondered if you might like to give them some lessons. I of course told her you had a guest staying with you and that usually you like to spend the holidays doing as little as possible.”

Hermione cast a suspicious look at Lucius, his face gave nothing away as he took a long savouring sip of his brandy. Turning to Draco, Hermione could see he was about to combust, how was he going to dig himself out of this one. She was certain he would love to spend a day or so with Nemessia Fellows, with or without her niece and nephews. She could easily help him out…..end result, she got to spend a day or so alone with his father. She was now more certain than ever, Lucius was behind the sudden request for flying lessons.

“Draco, I know you really are a lazy git and just want to spend your entire holiday doing nothing, but speaking from personal experience, you are an excellent teacher.”

She pulled her own conspiratory face at the younger Malfoy, hoping he would realise what she was trying to do. Surprisingly he blushed at her compliment, but clearly caught on to her plan.

“Yeah but I was looking forward to doing nothing, lying in bed, eating too much, drinking too much.”

Lucius was keeping out of the exchange, he was well aware that Hermione knew he was up to something and why.

“Well I am sure that Ms Fellows niece and nephews are enjoying their holidays too and will not have you up at the crack of dawn. I also doubt she will starve you whilst you are there, and just think how envious they will all be of that shiny new broomstick of yours.”

Hermione knew how to pander to Draco’s ego and also how to elicit, the desired responses from him.

Draco thought for a moment and then it looked as if something had actually occurred to him: “Yes but what about you, I can’t just leave you here with my father, that’s not very nice.”

“Charming Draco.” Lucius effrontery was perfectly placed.  “I managed to show Hermione around the garden this afternoon without offending her. I am sure that we could survive for a day or so. I don’t think my company is too unpleasant, and if it were, this is a very large house.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He almost glowered at his father, but thought better of it. “I meant it’s not very nice inviting someone to your house and then buggering off and leaving them.”

Hermione was well aware that Lucius knew exactly what Draco meant and he was just, how was it he put it, exploiting the situation.

“Draco don’t be silly, you said it yourself, your father is an excellent host.” Hermione noticed Lucius’ eyebrow lift at her revelation. “I will not be offended in the slightest if you go, and it means I get some peace and quiet to spend in the library. Honestly its fine”. 

Out of Lucius’ eye line, she winked at Draco.

“Well if you are sure and really don’t mind, I guess it’s OK. Father why don’t you let Ms Fellows know I would be happy to help.”

“I will go and let her know right away, I am sure she will be delighted.” His eyes twinkled as they met Hermione’s across the fire. He loved it when a plan came together so spectacularly well.

Draco almost sprang up once his father left the room.

 “Are you sure you are ok with this Granger, I mean leaving you alone with my father, I know you two seem to be getting along alright, but I do feel guilty.”

“Its fine Ferret honestly. I am not just saying so. As your father said it’s a big house, we could easily avoid each other. And I could probably loose myself in the library for at least a week.” She grinned at her clearly elated friend.  

“Does Ms Fellows actually have any nieces and nephews, or is this just and elaborate booty call.”

“A _what?”_ Draco asked mystified at Hermione’s expression.

“Sorry, Muggle expression, it means a call for sex, usually it’s done by phone, not by floo.”

Hermione was desperately trying not to laugh at Draco, sometimes he really could be very naïve. Even without the knowledge that his father was behind the sudden request, it probably hadn’t even occurred to him that Nemessia Fellows could indeed be an only child, and was just looking for a ruse to get the young wizard alone and in a more favourable atmosphere to continue their liaison. A little bit like someone else she knew, Hermione mused.

The man himself returned moments later, telling them, his fellow governor was delighted that Draco could help her out, and what a darling boy he was to give up his holiday, his lie ins and to leave his friend.

“She said to be sure to tell you how much she appreciated it and that she would ensure you were well looked after.”

Hermione didn’t doubt for one minute the younger Malfoy would be very well looked after.

Lucius went on to say, that she was expecting him for lunch tomorrow and hoped that he would be able to stay for a day or so.

Hermione caught the gleeful and wicked look in his father’s pale grey eyes, as he downed the remainder of his brandy. She was more convinced than ever that Nemessia Fellows was an only child, but found herself looking forward to the _next day or so._

 


	15. The Next Day Or So...........

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has flooed off to give some flying lessons. Lets hope Hermione and Lucius don't get bored!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual thanks yous and apologies etc etc etc.
> 
> Glad you are still enjoy this smutty little "one shot!!!" Well if nothing else this chapter I think ups the smut.

 

Draco and his shiny new broomstick flooed from Malfoy Manor a little after eleven on Boxing morning, leaving Hermione alone with Lucius, whom she hadn’t seen since the previous evening. 

She and Draco had remained in the sitting room chatting and sharing a glass of wine or two, for some time after his father had retired for the evening, and whilst she was now under no illusions that leaving his bed in the middle of the night was definitely a taboo. She certainly didn’t have the courage to go to him. She had lain in bed wondering if he might come to her, but had drifted off to sleep thinking about it. Waking to a fresh layer of snow and some beautiful winter sunshine, just after 8.30am.

She hadn’t been surprised that Lucius had not been around to see his son off. But was disappointed that by midday he had still not materialised. Deciding he was obviously busy with something or another, perhaps some last minute arrangements for the Masquerade Ball, she decided to loose herself in the library for a while.  

The door opened silently across the thick carpet, and as was the norm around the Manor, a huge fire roared in the grate. The last remnants of wintery sunshine lit the room, and at the antique reading desk in the far window, Lucius Malfoy sat.

A book was open in front of him, but he seemed miles away. Looking out of the long window in front of him and across the reading hideaway, which like the rest of the gardens was covered in snow.  Hermione went to leave, he was clearly deep in thought and she didn’t want to disturb him. A small smile lifted his lips and he looked down, at the book, she assumed, but then he lifted something from the desk. She stood motionless and totally fascinated as he ran his fingers along the elegant wispy feather of the quill she had given him yesterday. Almost feeling it upon her skin, just like that afternoon in Scrivenshafts.

She slipped further into the room, closing the door soundlessly behind her. She just watched him, his fingers curling erotically around the plume, sliding them along the gossamer length. Lucius shifted in the chair, she could guess what he was thinking about, the memory of that afternoon, heating her blood too. The way his fingers caressed the quill, making it positively boil. It were almost as if he we touching himself. The notion sent a wave of embarrassment, coupled with a full blown rush of arousal hurtling through her. Hermione watched fixedly as he once again stirred in the chair.  In the bright room, she could clearly see the tightness of his trousers, a small gasp escaping her lips as he ran his hand over his hardened flesh. The small smile on his lips turning to an indolent grin.

“Do you like to watch Hermione?” He asked pointedly, his luminous grey eyes falling upon her.

“I don’t know.” She admitted with the same openness and her usual honesty. “I’ve never….” She was becoming painfully good, at not being able to finish a sentence around him.

“You’ve never watched a man pleasure himself?” He supplied, still stroking his sheathed flesh.

“No” Her voice was barely audible, her face more than a little flushed.

“The other evening you were on your knees, my cock deep in your throat, but you blush at this?” He rubbed his erection deliberately, through the thick wool of his trousers.

Lucius watched her face, she may blush crimson, but her eyes were following his every movement with a burning intensity and curiosity. His confined flesh throbbed at the thought of her watching him, wondering what she would do.

Hermione moved slowly across the room, and leaned against the desk.

“It just seems so very personal.” She said, her eyes drifting from his crotch to his pale face. His hair was once again tied back, caught at his nape by the thin strand of green silk, which she had left in his bed. Absently she wondered what would happen if she tugged on it.

Lucius quirked and eyebrow at her: “You had my seed coating your tongue, but _this_ is more personal?”

At slight hint of amusement, mixed with incredulity laced Lucius’ aristocratic tones, as his hand continued to move unhurriedly over his aroused flesh.

Hermione shrugged, she knew it sounded silly, but this was something he did alone, not with her. Wasn’t it?  Lucius was observing her carefully.

“The quid pro quo is still in effect Hermione. It applies to everything.”

Again, he shifted in the chair, making himself more comfortable as he continued his subtle ministrations.

Hermione’s skin burned, but nowhere near as hotly as the fast dampening area between her legs.

“What do you think about, when you…….” She really had to stop doing this, she had never found herself at a loss for words around him before. But then she had never been under such intense scrutiny, and never before had the conversation been so base or quite so intimate.

Lucius wasn’t having it this time, devilment got the better of him, he wanted to hear her say the words, ask the question. He inclined his head waiting for her to finish the sentence, not concluding it for her.

“What do I think about, when I what Hermione?”

His searching voice was slow and measured, his face now imprinted with unmistakably feigned pretence, he knew very well what she wanted to know, and was struggling to bring herself to ask.

The movement of his arm drew her eyes once more from his face, back to his groin, where he was gently palming the blatant bulge in his trousers.

Hermione took a deep breath, the question might be difficult to ask, but she knew the answer would be worth the awkwardness.  Phraseology would be another challenge, she thought about it momentarily, before throwing his own words back at him.

“What do think about Lucius, when you are pleasuring yourself?” Self-satisfaction nodded its head, and trickled through her veins approvingly.

He pressed himself against his hand, the friction against fabric of his trousers, her intense gaze and gaucheness, were a heady mix.

“You.” He said simply

“Doing what?” She asked quickly, her discomfiture fading.

Lucius smiled, his grey eyes glinting with wicked passion.

“Whatever I want.” He noticed a little glimmer of shock cross her plainly intrigued face.

“However, I have to confess Hermione, of late it has been somewhat of a double edged sword. I find myself more aroused thinking about you, what I would like to do to you, with you, but my hand is poor substitute for the real thing.”

“But not now?” Her eyes indicated his lightly moving hand.

“Oh you cannot begin to imagine how erotic it is to have you watching.”

She thought for a moment; “Oh I think I can.” She admitted teasingly.

Her twinkling brown eyes met Lucius’s molten silver. Hermione was seeing a very different side to Lucius Malfoy, an almost kindred spirit to _that side_ of her that he elicited. She could hardly call it his dark side, the dark side of this man was something very different. She couldn’t help but wonder if he had always been so uninhibited sexually, or if perhaps, it was something she brought out in him. 

“Ask your question Hermione.”

Lucius could see something lurking behind her warm brown eyes, something she was longing to ask.

Hermione shook her head. This was beyond personal, this was prying, and whatever he had done before, was his own business.

“Ask!” The flash in his eyes and the commanding tone in his voice left no room for argument.

“I will tell you anything you want to know.”

Again Hermione chose her words cautiously, if not more so. Before she was fighting her own embarrassment. The wrath of Lucius Malfoy was not something she wanted to incur.

“H….Have you always been such a horny devil?” She asked bluntly.

A low chuckle emanated from Lucius and she relaxed a little. At least he hadn’t reached for his other wand and hexed her.

“How charmingly put. Assuming I have not taken on the traits of a Wendigo, I take it you mean that, from a sexual perspective?”

Hermione nodded, watching as his hand continued to rub abstractedly over the front of his neatly pressed trousers. The conversation in no way diminishing his ardour. His gaze not leaving hers for a moment.

“The desires, and the fantasies have always been there. I think perhaps you bring out the _devil_ in me.”

Now there was a thought, bringing out the devil in Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione’s shyness was quickly vanishing, being beaten into submission by burning curiosity and need. “In that case, I would say we are very much even then, except your bring out a side in me I didn’t know I possessed. I like what you do to me.” She all but smirked at him.

 “And right now, I like what you are doing to yourself.”

Lucius loved Hermione the voyeur, a little part of him imagining she had caught him, red handed as it were.

Hermione saw something flicker in his pale grey eyes: “Other than of course the obvious, what are you thinking about?”

Lucius was surprised and delighted that she could read him so well. “Just a little fantasy.”

“What do you want me to do?” She asked in hushed tones.

“Nothing.” He admitted honestly.

A look of puzzlement crossed her face.

“In my mind you already did it.” He explained. “You caught me, doing this.” His hand slid along the length of his shaft as it pressed hard against his trousers. He brushed the tip enticingly.

This time it was Lucius who noticed something flickering in her eyes. It wasn’t a question, she was perhaps imagining or wanting something of her own.

“Is there something that you would like?” He asked her quietly, watching as colour flooded her cheeks once more.

Hermione licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry, her knickers suddenly very wet.

“That you carry on as if I am not here.”

“Quid pro quo?” He asked.

She nodded once more, afraid to speak for fear her voice would come out as strangled squeak.

“If you had walked in upon me, and I didn’t know you were watching me, what would you do Hermione?”

Excitement fluttered in her stomach, heat pooling between her legs. She knew exactly what he meant, what he wanted. Could she play this game with him? Could she expose herself so openly to him?

“Why don’t we find out?” She heard a breathy voice answer, making herself more comfortable against the edge of the desk.

Lucius didn’t answer, she might be less that two feet away from him, but she could tell he was already “alone” in the room. His eyes closing as he now stroked himself in earnest, slow deliberate movements. He ran his long fingers along the outline of his shaft. The dark, heavy material failing to conceal the potency of his arousal. A gentle moan fell from his lips, his hips lifting from the chair and pressing against his open palm.

Hermione was slowly loosing herself in the eroticism of his actions, and found herself pressing her legs together, a hand drifting to her breast, her thumb brushing against one of the swelling peaks. She was only aware she had touched herself when a bolt of electricity shot through her.

Of course she’d done this before, but perched on the edge of a desk, in front of Lucius Malfoy was a long way removed from the privacy of her own bed. She kept telling herself that he was _unaware_ of her presence, but however much she tried, she was all too well aware of him.

The gentle whir of a zipper being lowered, once more drew Hermione’s eyes from the blissful look on his face, to his crotch. He unfastened the two remaining buttons and slid his hand inside, clearing enjoying the feel of his hard flesh against his warm fingers. He didn’t release himself immediately, clearly savouring the thought of imminent freedom.

Finally he shifted in the chair, pulling his hand out of the tight confines of his trousers, and his fully aroused cock with it. Hermione’s eyes were riveted, almost widening in wonder. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen him like this previously, his silky, smooth skin, taut and beautifully aroused, but seeing it clasped between his long, skilled fingers was erotic beyond words.

Hermione, found her own hands and fingers drifting provocatively over her body. She hadn’t bothered with a bra this morning, and under the soft jersey t-shirt she wore, she pinched somewhat harshly at a nipple. It pebbled to her touch. Her body arched into the sensation, craving friction, she moved against the harsh denim of her jeans.

Having her leaning against the desk fully clothed whilst he touched himself, was more erotic than Lucius could possibly have imagined. He wasn’t supposed to be aware of her presence, but he watched her from beneath his partially closed lashes. He noticed how she toyed with her nipples, covered by a thin top, they had peaked to her touch. His cock jerked harder against the palm of his hand, as he stroked and caressed it.  Abusing himself had never felt so good, his hand clamping tighter around his erection which stood stiff and proud from his remarkably relaxed body.

Since his first encounter with Hermione, in the dungeons, he’d found his own hand sadly lacking in satisfaction, but when the urge had been so overwhelming, this was one of his favourite fantasies. Never in his wildest dreams had Lucius imagined it would come to fruition.

Hermione pulled the soft t-shirt up over her head, letting it fall to the floor. Now in just her jeans, she cupped her gently rounded breasts, kneading them and pinching her nipples hard, enticing them to peak hard. 

His arousal swelled as he watched her, knowing it was his actions enflaming her with such wanton need. It was a chain reaction, he twisted his hand around the length of his shaft, causing a dewy clear bead to appear at the tip, and using it as a natural lubricant he enjoyed the long, slow exaggerated strokes.

Hermione watched, totally mesmerised, he certainly knew how to handle his body, his fingers were skilled and his body revelled in his own touch, watching him stroke and caress his own hardness made her almost as excited as feeling him touch her.

Her hands travelled the length of her body, opening her jeans, she slid her hand inside. She was so wet. Hermione didn’t like the restrictive feel of the material, she shrugged out of them, and letting them fall to the floor she stepped out of them. A very simple, very damp pair of white knickers were all that remained.

“Take them off.” He whispered in a hushed slightly breathless tone. “Please.” Fantasies were colliding.

Hermione raised a brow at him but said nothing, allowing the last remnant of her clothing to slide to the floor.

His penetrating grey eyes were now fixed on her. She was no longer watching him unobserved, this was now about the mutual pleasure of watching each other.  Any inhibitions that Hermione had harboured had long since vanished. 

She spread her legs slightly, baring herself to him. Her juices glistened on the exposed pink folds. Her fingers spread her feminine lips apart, reminding him of her soft wet delights. She heard Lucius moan, and t _hat side_ of her, well and truly took over. Hermione dipped one finger inside of herself bringing the moistened digit to her mouth. She sucked on her finger, tasting herself.  Her other hand gently circling the little nub of throbbing pleasure, she noticed the power and speed of his strokes increase. 

By his own hand he was unbelievably hard, his lust almost overpowering. His flesh throbbing in anticipation, watching intently as she continued to touch herself. The pleasure of the constant stimulation was taking over his body, he increased the speed of his strokes.  He didn’t want to climax though, not yet, the sensation racing through his body was too good.  But, he could feel the pressure building up inside his body, feeling like he was going to explode, he needed release, his cock was beginning to convulse, the tremors reaching deep within him. His muscles tightening as he defied the eruption that threatened to engulf his entire body.  He slowed his strokes slightly, not wanting to lose the momentum or spoil the moment, tightening his grip once again, he allowed the strokes to build once again to a fast and furious pace, he felt his shaft expand within his palm, the pressure was so intense but he did not want to let go just yet.

 

Watching him was the most erotic thing she has ever seen, her body was throbbing, screaming out for gratification, but she wanted to wait, she wanted to watch him climax. She was so wet her fingers slid inside easily, further and further, she spread her juices across her own flesh, her hand moved across her wet lips as fast as his moved the length of his aroused flesh.  She let out a soft moan knowing she was going to have to come, she did not have his self-control. In her mind she could already see his rich essence flowing from him and her body began to writhe, her hips thrusting forward, she shuddered, engulfed in roll after roll of sheer ecstasy.  It wasn’t in her mind though, his hand moved faster, she could see he had reached the same peak as her, his breathing was laboured, he grunted as he maintained the speed and intensity of his masterful strokes. 

His strokes increased, became faster and more forceful, as he watched the rapid rise and fall of her gently rounded breasts with their puckered brown peaks. Her fingers slipping in and out of her wet core. He gasped, finally having to let go, his body tightening almost violently. Every nerve ending in his body pulsating, before converging on his aching length. Each contraction expelling his seed from his body. Before each spasm could finish, another started, wave after wave of pure bliss coursed through him. His strokes became less violent until finally his body was spent.  His orgasm as hard and shattering as hers.


	16. The Wet Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another naughty little chapter, Hermione is introduced to a new room at Malfoy Manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as ever, for much appreciated Kudos and comments. Usual apologies for typos, bad spelling etc.

Lucius hadn’t taken his penetrating grey eyes off of her, and still leaning totally naked against the desk, Hermione now felt completely exposed.  She accio’d her t-shirt only to have it intercepted by him, her frown met a surprisingly soft smile, as he extended his other hand to her. She might only be a foot or so away from him, but devoid of any clothing, the small distance between them, felt like a mile.  He caught her unexpectedly by the wrist and pulled her onto his lap.

Turning the t-shirt so it was the right way round he slipped it over her head, pulling her arms carefully through the sleeves, and tugging it slowly down to cover her modesty. A furious blush spread across her cheeks, and he out and out laughed.

“Hermione you blush at the strangest things.”

He had a point, a few minutes ago she was licking herself from her own fingers, without a shred of embarrassment. As Lucius Malfoy replaced her clothing she turned the shade of a ripe tomato.

“It just feels odd. You dressing me, I feel like a child.”

Lucius’ eyebrow shot up, a look of utter consternation etched on his face. This time it was Hermione’s turn to laugh.

“I just meant, I haven’t been dressed by anyone since I was about 3.”

“You don’t like it?” He asked softly.

A small smile lifted Hermione’s lips, her hand instinctively rising to caress his cheek.

“On the contrary, I like it very much. I like that you do it without magic and I like how sensual it feels, no matter how mundane the item.” She pulled at the rather boring jersey material.

He smacked her hand away, just as if she were a child: “That is because my dear, you make everything you wear seem so very sensual and sexy, from a t-shirt, to simple, white cotton knickers.”

He gestured the offending items lying discarded on the floor. Laughing once more, as colour again flooded her face. He muttered a few words and Hermione felt the effects of a cleaning charm. She screwed her face up at the dark wizard.

“What?” He asked clearly perturbed at her reaction. “You would prefer to remain wet and sticky.”

The words sounded disgustingly erotic in his clipped aristocratic drawl.

As she looked at his somewhat nauseated face, Hermione found her thoughts wandering.

It was Boxing Day. Normally she would be stretched out at the Burrow, amidst a house full of Weasley’s and Harry. Everyone wearing something Molly and her magic needles had knitted, the usual squabbles ensuing over whatever game they were going to play, and that someone had inevitably cheated.  Not to mention the traditional fight over the last chocolate frog. Instead she was at Malfoy Manor, sitting on the Lord of the Manor’s knee, wearing next to nothing.  An every corner of her brain wondering how this had come about.

At this moment in time it was impossible to equate this man, with the one she had once known. She didn’t want to think about that man, she didn’t really want to think at all. She just wanted to enjoy _this,_ whatever _this_ was.

She shamefully had to admit, she had given her friends little thought over the last few days.  They had exchanged presents and messages prior to them all setting of on their respective journey’s and thankfully Hermione had managed to keep her Christmas and New Year plans under wraps, well actually no one had even asked, for which she was eternally grateful. Explaining to Harry and Ron that she was going to spend Christmas with Draco and his father………now that would not have been an interesting conversation. Christmas at the Burrow was never likely to be the same again.

“Well actually I quite like the _wet_ part.”

This time Hermione got two raised eyebrows from Lucius Malfoy, she shook her head in exasperation.

“I was actually thinking of another non magical remedy….. bathing.”

She saw his eyes practically light up at the thought.

“How about a shower.” He suggested smugly.

Malfoy Manor was a beautiful house, but save the things that were done magically, it almost belonged in bygone era.   A shower was so very modern, and Hermione also thought, rather too Muggle for such traditionalist pureblood.  The self-satisfied tone of his voice suggested, he knew Hermione would think precisely that.

“I have embraced more than one new idea Hermione. Muggle plumbing is one of the reasons I suggested Muggle Studies become mandatory at Hogwarts.” His amusement was evident.

 

Of course, it stood to reason, Lucius Malfoy wouldn’t _just_ have a shower. He would have a wet room, which despite its luxury was remarkably in keeping with the character of the manor. Steeped in shades of grey and black marble, Hermione immediately decided it was second favourite room in the house.

Like the floor in her bathroom it struck warm to the touch as she padded across it. A large pane of lightly frosted glass separated the shower from the freestanding, claw footed tub that stood in the centre of the room.

Hermione turned to face Lucius, a Malfoy smirk settled on his lips, watching her reaction intently. The shower suddenly sprang into life behind her. Hermione discarded her t-shirt once more, and headed towards the steaming jets. Six silver serpents’ heads spat gloriously hot water onto the tiled floor, smiling Hermione slid behind the glass. It immediately changed from simply frosted, to the scene of a raging waterfall.

The enchanted glass did not obscure Hermione totally from Lucius’ view, and for a few moments he simply watched as the water cascaded over her silhouetted form. There was no doubt about it, she was right, this certainly was a much better idea than a cleansing charm.  A simple divestio and a naked Lucius Malfoy joined Hermione under the gushing streams of water.   

 

The showerhead was the size of a small wheel, the water flowing evenly from the mouths of the angry looking snakes, easily covering both of them. A soaking wet Lucius Malfoy was something to behold.

Over the last couple of days, she had seen his usually perfectly coiffured hair, tousled, slightly damp, fanned across her breasts and now it was dripping wet. Still it was tethered by that little strand of green silk.   She reached up tugging it once more from his hair, just as she had done those few short days ago. This time allowing to fall onto the tiled floor, the motion of the water moving it across the shiny surface like a tiny green serpent.  Lucius’ platinum locks fell heavily about this broad shoulders, the wetness making it appear a lot longer and darker than it normally did. Lucius ran his fingers through her own dripping wet hair pushing it back from her face, automatically she leaned into his touch.

An ornate figure of a dragon adorned one of the shower walls, the steam from the shower recirculating through its nostrils, giving the wonderful illusion that it was breathing. As Lucius hand moved closer, it raised its wing to reveal a concealed shelf, lined with various, gels, shampoos and potions.  This room, just got better and better.

Hermione reached for one of the lavender coloured bottles. To her surprise or to her horror she found a familiar face looking back at her. The five times winner of Witch Weekly’s most charming smile award, and her former Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, Gilderoy Lockhart’s face was emblazoned on the elaborate label.

Taking the bottle from her hand and removing the stopper Lucius said: “It’s a long story, which I have no intention of telling now. Hold out your hand.”

Maybe not now thought Hermione, but you will tell me. Compulsively doing as he instructed she held out her small hand, Lucius poured some of the velvety, silver coloured gel into her open palm.  She had the distinct impression it was meant for her……….

“Turn around.” She ordered Lucius, in the same authoritative tone that he had used on her. A little to her astonishment he did so, without question, argument or even a raised eyebrow

“Holy mother of Merlin” Hermione uttered silently to herself.

This was the first time she had seen the back of Lucius Malfoy. It was another delicious expanse of alabaster skin, except this time, it wasn’t so perfectly smooth. The marks it bore however did nothing to detract from how incredibly sexy his back was and what a gloriously fit arse he had.

That delicious expanse of smooth pale skin, taut across the defined muscles of his shoulders, his soaking blonde locks hanging between the blades.  She remembered the silky shampoo in her hand and dragging her eyes from Lucius lower body, she applied it gently, but firmly to his hair. Its silky essence felt even more so, when applied to his already lustrous hair. Slipping easily through her fingers, unlike her own tangled mass of curls.

Lucius remained unnerving still as she continued her gentle ministrations, if there was one thing Hermione had down to a fine art, it was the thorough washing of hair. She noticed the spray of the shower had diminished somewhat, presumably, so as not to wash away the exotically fragranced liquid before its time. She stretched up so she could reach the very top of his head. Scrapping her nails across his scalp and massaging the shampoo meticulously through his long blonde hair.  Satisfied that her task was done properly, she gently pushed him forward under the more forceful jets of water. Watching as the white lather slipped from his hair, across his back and down over his taut arse. The power of the water increased once more, and for the first time, in what seemed like an eternity Lucius moved. Tilting his head back slightly, allowing his hair to fall away from his body and the residual shampoo to be rinsed away.

Even her small firm fingers in his hair felt special. She’d said no one had dressed her since she was about 3, Lucius must have been about the same age, the last time someone had washed his hair with such love and diligence. Carefully keeping the soap from his eyes, ensuring it didn’t become tangled but making certain that it was done properly.

That she could treat him with such tenderness after everything he had done to her, to her friends, still, both confounded and amazed him. He felt a strange little fluttering sensation in his stomach, a sensation which had nothing to do with lust. 

Lucius smiled to himself as she tested his hair for the tell-tale “squeak” that meant it was soap free, and scrupulously clean. He was about to turn and face her, when the dragon’s wing lifted once more. This time it was the motion of Hermione’s hand causing the movement, reaching past him, he felt her soft body brush against him, a frisson of awareness shot through him, his lower body reacting immediately.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her replace the lavender shampoo bottle and exchange it for something else.  Her free hand gathering his hair, and allowing it to fall forward over one shoulder, and onto his chest. The muscles on his back rippling and quivering at her sweet unexpected touch.  She spread the soap across his back with a delicate circular motion that was quite exquisite, as was the feel of her breath, which despite the heat and the steam from the shower, he could feel against his wet skin.

Her soapy fingers skated over his body, just as it had been with his hair, her washing was methodical, although her touch was much lighter. 

Hermione found she loved to caress his body, revelling in how each bit of him changed, and reacted to her touch. His back twitched, his shoulders flexed, every part of him relaxing even more as her hands slid from his shoulders, and down his muscled arms.

She suddenly felt a tension invade his body as her foamy exploration went lower.  Reaching his bottom ribs and base of his spine, where his perfect alabaster skin bore the scars of his years with Voldemort and a stay in Azkaban Prison.

Like the Dark Mark on his arm and the tattoo on his neck they had faded over time, but Hermione still felt their pain. Lucius may no longer their pain, but he was certainly very conscious of them.  She touched her lips to his shoulder, leaving a trail of soft kisses to his neck and gently nipping at the flesh that joined the two.  Her hands slipping past the scars and gently kneading the firm muscles of his nicely toned arse. She heard him exhale slowly and deeply, his head moving back slightly, allowing the steaming water to cascade over him.  

Quickly applying more of the musky gel, Hermione slid her arms under his. Until this moment, she had only touched him with her fingers, and briefly her lips. Now her own body was plastered against his and she almost fought for breath at such close contact.

Her dexterous fingers beginning their work on his chest, lathering the soap in the hair that graced his upper body and dragging her thumbs tantalisingly over his flat male nipples. She loved how they became hard and puckered to her touch.  Travelling over his ribs, her hands moved outwards, her slender fingers biting into the fleshy part of his hips. She felt him shift backwards, his behind abrading subtly against her. Hermione’s body moved of its own volition, her sex flush against the soft cheeks of his arse.  Her hands reaching around further, they drifted slowly over his strong thighs. His stance was such that, as her fingers coasted equally unhurriedly back upwards they slipped between his legs, cupping and grasping his balls lightly.

Lucius was unable to restrain the audible moan that tumbled from his lips as her fingers played with his taut flesh, the sensation beyond description. He understood her reasoning now, at something so relatively simple, being more intimate. She may well have had him deep in her throat, swallowed his come, but her fingers gently curled around his balls, caressing them; him; like this, felt so much more personal.  No one had ever done this to him, he trawled the dark recesses of his mind, remembering briefly, happier times with his ex-wife……..no one had made him feel like this.

Hermione’s head spun, that side of her was fast becoming the “normal” side of her. The things that she wanted to do and the things she was actually doing, no longer shocking her. They all seemed perfectly natural, what you would want to do with your lover. Hermione’s head spun a little faster and a little harder, however she put it, whatever words she used. Lucius Malfoy was her lover. The comprehension sent a tsunami of excitement coursing through her, the realisation sending a delicious sense of delight crashing back. It travelled from her brain to her fingertips with the speed of a golden snitch at full pelt, and they tightened confidently around his erection.

With a guttural groan, torn from deep within him, Lucius Malfoy turned to face Hermione, potent desire lighting his grey eyes. Water dripped from his face on to hers as his lips captured hers, not in the crushing kiss she was expecting, but with an almost unbearable gentility and warmth. Pausing fleetingly to look deeply into her eyes, before once again his lips descended with a searing, evoking passion that Hermione had never experienced. 

Her silky wet limbs crept around his like a vine. Her arms wound their way around his neck, her fingers threading into his soaking hair. One slender leg curled around his, her foot stroking his calf. Hermione felt Lucius’ strong hands at the top of her thighs, lifting her, she held him tightly around the neck and levered herself up. Sliding gradually back down his slippery wet body, she impaled herself lithely on his rigid cock, sinking down as far as she could on his hard flesh.  The suddenness of her movement causing them both to sway. Lucius braced himself and Hermione found her back against the inflexibility of the tiled wall, she didn’t care. His body just felt so good, the solid wall of his chest hard against her sensitive breasts and his silky arousal, sheathed so deeply within her. Hermione clung to Lucius Malfoy as if her life depended on it.

Although quite literally, not a position she had found herself in before, Hermione, as always learnt quickly. Using her limbs for purchase, she moved with him, everything tightening around him. Her arms around his neck, pulling him yet closer. Her legs around his lower back, holding him tighter and her inner muscles around his cock, drawing him in deeper. The angle of his body was perfect, her pubic bone rubbing against him as she rode him, the sensation urging her on, craving more, gasping as he willingly gave it to her.

Lucius was beyond rational thought. He couldn’t get enough of her, their bodies moving in seamless unison. The tension he felt straining in his legs as he supported both of them, was nothing compared to the tension he could feel building deep within his body. He held her steadily as she continued to move nimbly up and down. Her silky wetness around his throbbing arousal, her pert breasts rubbing against his chest, combined with the water and heat of their surroundings was pushing him fast towards the edge.  All but screaming as she came, everything constricted ferociously around him in a blissful shuddering climax. It took him with it so quickly, it almost robbed him of breath and the power to remain upright. Clinging to him, his hands fell either side of her against the tiled wall, pinning her to it. He thrust deeply into her, his own release coming hard and fast, spilling into her over and over again. His own groaning cry of pleasure reverberated off of the tiled walls, absorbed by the sound of the still running water.

Hermione was frightened to put her legs to the ground, knowing they would not support her. Two strong arms encircled her, holding her tightly against a chest that still heaved in the aftermath of his own orgasm. How Lucius managed to keep himself upright, let alone her too was beyond comprehension. But she didn’t complain, she just enjoyed the delight of being held by him.

 

They managed to get washed without any further distractions, save a kiss or two here and some nibbling there.  Hermione felt like a child again when Lucius wrapped her in an enormous fluffy black towel, a smaller version of which he had tied across his hips. Something which she found ridiculously sexy.

“How about we get dressed and I get one of the house elves to make us some lunch?” Lucius suggested as he lead her back into his bedroom.

Hermione shook her head, letting go off Lucius’s hand she moved to the door, trying not to laugh at his perplexed face.

“How about, we get dressed and I make us some lunch……. I will be in the kitchen.”

Without waiting for an answer she slipped from the room. Once more padding past those infinitely disapproving, pale faced Malfoy ancestors. This time clad only in a towel, she swore their frowns were getting profounder and their glares were becoming far harsher.  Hermione smiled sweetly at them as she passed, unable to resist the childish urge to stick her tongue out at one particularly stony faced woman, whose arms were folded in harsh censure.

 

 

 

 


	17. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cooking and confessions.........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continued comments and Kudos. Usual stuff applies. This chapter is a little bit different so I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Hermione's words at the end come courtesy of Rick Dunkle, one of the writers of Criminal Minds.

 

When she had entered the kitchen and informed the three Malfoy house elves that she was going to prepare lunch, they had looked at Hermione as if she were speaking in Parseltongue.  Eventually they seemed persuaded that this was in fact alright and they did not need to go and inflict pain or harm upon themselves. With a loud pop they had all vanished from the room.

Before they had apparated away it might have been prudent to have asked them where certain things were kept. Instead Hermione found herself opening various cupboard doors, trying to locate what she needed. A blast of cold air suddenly hit her, revealing cooling charms, this was what she was looking for. The huge turkey carcass and remnants of yesterday’s lunch sat on the centre shelf, perfect she thought.

Thankfully she didn’t have to hunt around for knives, there was a ferocious selection of them in a block on the work island. Various pots and pans hung above it, they weren’t attached to anything, simply hanging in mid-air, much like the candles in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Hermione reached for a skillet. The large cast iron stove was already alight and after a little knob twiddling the ring beneath her pan glowed red. Hermione pondered how often the old range style, beautifully equipped kitchen was actually used.

She liked to cook and to bake. The only magic involved when she did either, was the secrets her mother had passed on, and like her mother, Hermione had a natural flair in the kitchen.  Whilst hardly a gastronomic challenge, bubble and squeak was a Boxing Day tradition in the Granger household. Hermione had even shown Molly Weasley how to make the simple dish and it had soon become a firm favourite in her, ever ravenous household too. She couldn't help but wonder how the Lord of The Manor was going to react to being served what amounted to a plate of fried leftovers.

After more cupboard raiding, Hermione found the rest of the items she was looking for. Not only was the kitchen surprisingly well equipped but it was also superbly stocked, it reminded her of a TV cookery show.  Grabbing one of the sharp knives, Hermione finely chopped a clove of garlic and an onion, adding them to the goose fat and bacon which were bubbling nicely in the hot pan. Stirring them all together she added the potatoes.  Taking another equally sharp knife, she carved a selection of meat from the chilled bird. Asking Lucius Malfoy if he preferred a leg or a breast was not an option. Hermione acciod some plates,  only because she really didn’t have the patience to open yet more cupboard doors in search of them, and put the meat on one.

She suddenly got the feeling she was no longer alone, certain that the house elves had not returned. She turned to find Lucius leaning nonchalantly against the work island. His bare feet clearly not having made a sound as he’d entered the kitchen. He was watching her intently, an indulgent smile on his lips.  His freshly washed, and now dry mane of platinum hair hung loose about his shoulders.

She couldn’t get used to seeing him like this. Dressed so casually, so relaxed, so Muggle and so goddamed bloody sexy.  Again he wore a fine cotton shirt, those same three buttons undone at his pale throat. This time however the cuffs remained unsecured, they were rolled once and were resting just above his wrists. His trousers, even casual were immaculately tailored and perfectly pressed. Unlike before, he wore the darkest blue, like the midnight sky. The colour making his pale grey eyes once again appear that odd, haunting shade of blue. Hermione found herself drowning in their depths, only the faint smell of burning distracted her and she turned her attention quickly back to the skillet. Lucky the idea of bubble and squeak was to allow the mixture to catch, making it nice and crispy.

“Something smells very good.” He observed, brushing past her, his fingers lightly drifting across her lower back. “Shall I open a bottle of wine?”

Hermione’s body came alive even at the briefest of touches, but at the same time she was filled with an odd sensation of something else, she just wasn’t sure what.

“That would be lovely.” She responded to his question about the wine, dubiously filling him in on the food. “It’s just bubble and squeak.”

Hermione shifted and patted the mixture crackling away in the pan. Watching Lucius out of the corner of her eye as he stopped in his tracks. A look of haughty but amused disdain crossing his face.

“It sounds as if you could possibly be cooking some relatives of my house elves.”

Hermione tried not to laugh at the suggestion, thanking Merlin she hadn’t decided to cook a toad in the hole. It was clear, Muggle cookery didn’t translate to well into the wizarding world.  Peering carefully into the skillet for effect, she moved the mixture around some more, as if she were looking for something, elflike perhaps.

“I assume a nice Bordeaux will be a suitable accompaniment for that squeaky bubble concoction?” He asked, indicating the bottle he had lifted from an extensive rack at the far end of the kitchen.

“I think it would be perfect.” Hermione didn’t dare laugh or correct him. If he hated the meal a good bottle of wine would certainly help.

Two very thin, bulbous glasses followed Lucius and his bottle of wine to the table, they settled in front of him, where he decanted a small measure of the blood red liquid into each one. Seating himself comfortably at the table he waited patiently for Hermione to finish cooking.

She felt like a maid, the thought making her smile. Lucius had said he had fantasies, she wondered if they extended to dressing up, or role playing, she imagined a tiny black dress and a frilly white apron. As a feather duster entered the picture she dragged her mind back from the route it was fast heading down, and returned her attention to lunch.  Serving one portion of the bubble and squeak to Lucius, she placed the other down for herself.

Lucius draped his napkin across his lap, Hermione did the same, not taking her eyes of him as he lifted his knife and fork.  He placed some of the freshly sliced meat on his plate and began to eat.  Hermione waited with baited breath for him to say something, anything. Deathly silence ensued. The only noise to be heard was the gentle scrape of silver against china. Well he hadn’t spat it out or pulled a face of any sort, but then a man of Lucius Malfoy’s breeding was hardly likely to do that.

“Where did you learn to cook Hermione?” He asked suddenly, taking a long sip of his wine.

“My, my mother taught me, she ….liked to cook and to bake, simple things.” Hermione told him nervously.

Lucius found himself wanting to know more about Hermione’s parents. He had seen them very briefly, many years ago, the day he had first met Hermione in Flourish and Blotts. As he recalled they had been talking to Arthur Weasley. To his shame now, he also recalled his contemptuous words to their daughter.  Not that they had talked in-depth about anything that much, but Lucius realised this was the first time she had mentioned either of her parents.

“I know you are a very good study Hermione, but in my very limited experience, cooking takes a different kind of skill.”

Hermione watching as he swirled the liquid around the bulbous goblet, before taking another languid sip. He still hadn’t actually commented on the food.

“This is delicious. Simple it maybe, but that doesn’t make it any less gratifying. Very much like having lunch here in the kitchen with you.”

Hermione’s insides summersaulted at his words, a silly grin covering her face. Draco had only been gone a few hours but it was becoming all too easy to fall into this.  

 

Once the meal was finished, Lucius suggested they finish the wine somewhere more comfortable. Thus Hermione found herself, sprawled on a sofa, wrapped in his arms, in front of the huge fire burning in the study. A random selection of music played unobtrusively in the background, and outside the snow was falling heavily.

“I thought you would have chosen the library” Lucius observed quietly, his lips brushing her hair as she snuggled against him.

Hermione loved the intoxicating, heady smell of the man she had once loathed, and how his voice rumbled in the chest her head was resting upon. She lifted her face to look at him.

“Too many distractions.” She admitted earnestly, teasing, lighting her honey brown eyes. “And this room.”

Whilst wanting to be honest with him she didn’t want to sound too sugary. “Well I like this room.”

“Hmm, that wasn’t what you were going to say, was it?”

The warmth and tenderness that aristocratic voice now held, melted Hermione’s insides. Who would have imagined she would ever find herself thinking that about Lucius Malfoy? Or that he could ever be capable of such emotions, let alone evoking them in Hermione.

He pushed her hair away from her face. It was rosy from the heat of the fire and no doubt the wine.

“No, it wasn’t” She admitted. Her eyes falling away, unable to meet his penetrative stare.

His long fingers came up to her chin, tilting her head backwards so she faced him once more.

“Tell me.” His voice once more took on that commanding, authoritative tone.

The fear it would have once elicited now replaced by a strange excitement.

“Since we became reacquainted or perhaps I should say, properly acquainted. You have been _my_ brave little Gryffindor, not afraid to speak your mind, or be scrupulously honest with me. It is one of the things I ….. I admire about you, please don’t change that Hermione.”

She wondered what he had been about to say but let her own curiosity go.

“I do love this room, but what I was going to say was, this room is you. I feel close to you in here, even if you were not physically in it.”

She felt his body shift against her. As his eyes searched her face, she looked into their blue-grey depths, silently, they compelled her to continue.  

“Wherever I look, I can see you. Seated at your desk, writing an owl. Stretched out here, or over there sitting in the armchair, listening to your beautiful music. Or simply standing by the window looking out over the gardens. Your masculine scent and presence just fill this room.”

Hermione stopped suddenly, feeling foolish, that her words were too fanciful, dreamy even. She glanced up at Lucius, her face as always around him, more than a little flushed. Those mesmerizingly beautiful eyes of his, bright with emotion.

Lucius found himself almost overcome by her words, not a circumstance he was used to.  That she would think of him in such a way, even in his absence, let alone, voice these thoughts with such flagrant honesty, took him completely by surprise. Unable to return her eloquent words, for fear of what he might say, Lucius simply gathered her closer to him.

“This is close.” He whispered, again feeling her small body nuzzle against him. That bizarre little feeling, devoid of lust once more fluttered in his stomach.

“Why did you chose to spend Christmas with Draco and I, instead of with your family?” Lucius asked unexpectedly.

However she answered his question, it was going to sound discourteous, as if they had been second best. She knew a “because Draco asked,” was not going to appease him. But then Lucius had asked about her family, not her friends.

“I don’t have any family, not anymore.”

Feeling his sharp intake of break at her admission, Hermione didn’t wait for Lucius to speak.

“Before the final battle at Hogwarts, when Harry was being perused by Voldemort and his Dea… Well shortly before the order came to take him to safety. I modified my parents’ memories.”

Feeling his shock, rather than seeing or hearing it, Hermione continued quickly.

“I thought it would be safer for everyone, me, Harry and them of course, if they couldn’t be easily tracked down.  So with the aid of modification charms, I made them believe they were a couple called Monica and Wendall Wilkins, they had no children, but a lifetime’s ambition to live in Australia. So I would imagine they are probably enjoying a BBQ on the beach, right about now.” 

Hermione injected a little wry humour into her revelation, not wishing to sound too downhearted.

 

Lucius stroked her hair, holding it comfortingly. He felt physically ill.

He had seen the result of most of his handiwork as a Death Eater for the Dark Lord. The physical scars he had inflicted. But he had never contemplated those he couldn’t see, the mental scars he had been the cause of. The indirect consequences of his actions as opposed to the direct ones. And all these years later they were still returning to haunt him and ironically with someone he would never want to hurt, not now. His stomach churned as his mind drifted back to the past.

Hermione knew intuitively what the dark wizard lying against her was thinking. Telling him what she had, was always going to be a double edged sword. It hadn’t been her intention to hurt him, or reopen old wounds. The idea had been the complete opposite. But not wanting him thinking he was second best, now seemed like a much kinder option than practically making him feel responsible for what she had been compelled to do. He had suffered too, she had seen that, both mentally and physically.

Hermione lifted herself from Lucius’ chest, stroking his hair around his pained face. The spark of bright emotion she had seen earlier in his eyes, now clouded by the pain of the past.

“It was my fault, even what happened to you in this house, my house” He said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “If I’d…..”

Hermione smiled gently at him, placing a finger of his lips:  “No, it was not your fault.”                                            She saw his eyes flash as if to argue, but she continued.

“Nobody forces us to make the choices we do, but sometime we are forced to make them for others. We both did the things we did to protect our families.”

It seemed strange to be having such a similar conversation with the father, which she’d had with his son, just a couple of days earlier.

“Years later those choices may still haunt us, but whatever they were, we have to believe we did them for the right reason.”

“How could allowing you to be tortured in my own home, be a right reason for anything?” 

Lucius felt the sickness rise in his throat just saying the words out loud.   

Hermione noticed his already pale face, visibly ashen. His brave little Gryffindor he had still called her, well this was one fight she was going to win.

A few years ago. Merlin, who was she kidding, a few months ago, Hermione would have been all too willing to allow Lucius Malfoy to take the blame for so many things, but not now. Of course her opinion of him, her feelings for him, had changed, but so had this man. Hermione had seen and witnessed it first-hand.  She should have known, it was rarely Minerva McGonagall got things that wrong!

Instead of clouding her objectivity, her feelings towards Lucius Malfoy and her friendship with his son had brought with them understanding, an understanding which spilled over into her own world.

“What would have happened to Draco, to Narcissa, if you’d tried to intervene with Bellatrix?” She asked him pointedly, fire lighting her brown eyes.

Her body was still partially touching Lucius,’ and beneath her she could feel every reaction. She felt him flinch.

His tones were as hushed, and as pained as his eyes: “I dread to think.”

Hermione caressed his face with the back of her fingers, _her_ little muscle pulsed violently in his jaw, but for very different reasons than usual.

“And there you have it Lucius. At the time, you despised me, I was that precocious little Mudblood, who was causing so much trouble. It didn’t matter what happened to me.”

She felt him once more about to speak, argue his point, but she wasn’t having it. She wasn’t going to allow him to blame himself for things that really were, beyond his control.

“If the situation had been reversed, you don’t think I would have done the same? Made the same decisions, if I’d had to choose between Draco and Harry, or you and Ron. You meant nothing to me, you were the enemy. It was a time of war. There would have been no choice.”

She felt his body relax a little beneath her, the pain clouds ebbing slightly from his eyes.

“Do you remember, back in September, the conversation we had in the dungeons? We were talking about Hogwarts, but we weren’t really talking about the school?”

Lucius nodded, unable to speak, the icy fingers of nausea still clutching tightly at his throat.

“You said, _it_ was old, and had seen its share of trouble and hurt. _It_ might not be as I imagined it to be……….”

Lucius interrupted her.

“And you replied, something along the lines of, not by wizarding standards and you thought _it_ was stronger, more resilient and had a capacity for so much more.”

“We were both right.”

She saw a flicker of incomprehension cross his face.

“You were right that _it_ was not what I imagined it to be. I was right that _it_ had a capacity for so much more.  We’ve seen some each other’s scars Lucius, both the mental ones and the physical ones.”

Lucius sighed deeply. Raising a hand to touch her face, his unbuttoned sleeve slid up his forearm. Hermione’s line of vision fell to where the dark mark had once been so prominent. She touched her fingers softly to his slightly raised flesh. Their eyes meeting, hers understanding and fierce. His uncertain and humbled.

“Scars remind us of where we have been, they don’t have to dictate where we are going.” 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So with Draco still away, time for some revelations.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you all very much for Kudos and comments. Usual apologies for any faux pas and talking of which, sincere apologies for something odd which happened and managed to completely screw up the chapter sequences. I have it all sorted now, but I hope it didn't detract from the story too much.

 

The already roaring fire in the study crackled and fizzed, Hermione recognised the signs and the sounds immediately, quickly resuming an upright position on the sofa.

The red, distorted image of Draco Malfoy appeared in the flickering grate.

“Hey Granger” He said cheerfully, his voice a lot more familiar and clearer than his image amidst the flames.

Of course, it stood to reason that Malfoy Manor would have more than one fireplace connected to the floo network, and that one of them would be in the Master’s study.  When Draco had left the manor earlier in the day, he had departed from the much larger grate in the drawing room, presumably to accommodate him and his shiny new broomstick. A simple floo call required much less space.

“Is my father with you?” He asked somewhat slyly.

The question caught Hermione off guard. She was in Lucius’ study, she was hardly going to be there alone, but luckily at the moment she was. Lucius having gone to retrieve a second bottle of wine and to stretch his legs. Having told a surprised Hermione, that he did like to do some things without the aid of magic or the assistance of a house elf. Her playful and naughty retort, had earned her an equally playful Malfoy sneer, and a nip of the lip as he had kissed her, before leaving the room. A few moments earlier and Draco would have witnessed just that.

“Not at the moment.” She replied to Draco, being liberal with the truth whilst not being untruthful.

As ever, the younger Malfoy seemed totally unfazed or oblivious to the fact that she was alone in his father’s study. She guessed it was a “bloke thing”. Harry and Ron had never read anything untoward into a situation, any hints of gossip, even those the size of Grawp went completely over their heads. It was definitely a “bloke thing”.

“Good.” Came the immediate and conspiratory response.

“Well for once Granger you were wrong, Nemessia does have a niece and nephews.

Hermione could hear the gloating almost smug _I told you so_ in his voice and a slight curl to his upper lip if she wasn’t very much mistaken.

“Three to be precise, so my broomsmanship skills were actually required, and it wasn’t a, what was it you said booty call.”

Hermione laughed, the expression sounded hilarious on Draco’s lips.

“But.” He continued. “Are you sure my father isn’t around?”

“Well he is around somewhere Ferret but he’s not here.” Hermione was as anxious as Draco, obviously for very different reasons.

“So get on with it.” She spoke loudly, ensuring that a returning Lucius would hear her talking to someone.

“Well the niece and nephews left a short while ago, so….”

“OK, OK I get the picture, spare me the details. So why are you deigning to call home, when you obviously have better things to be doing?”

“Actually, I was checking you were ok, and not too fed up, being stuck there with my father.”

Hermione was touched by his un Slytherin like concern, but thanked Merlin this conversation was via floo. Feeling sure she would have trouble concealing her discomfort from a face to face with Draco.

“Draco it been less than 12 hours. Like you said Draco, your father is, for all his faults an excellent host. I am fine.”

 “At least he’s keeping you company, and hasn’t just left you in the library. I can hear his music playing, don’t let him brainwash you with it, it bloody awful.”

Hermione had a feeling there was more to this call than him checking on her wellbeing.

 “Yes ferret, now was there actually a point to this call or did you just want to berate your father’s taste in music and lecture me?” The longer the call went on the more anxious Hermione became. Lucius could return at any moment and she worried that he might say or do something, that would be difficult to explain to his son.

“Oh yeah right. Well as long you are ok, and my father is behaving himself.”

Hermione bit back a smile, she wouldn’t go as far as to say Lucius was behaving himself, but then she wasn’t complaining about that.

“It’s snowing quite heavily here, so I thought I would stay another day. My father doesn’t need to know the children have gone home or that I am no longer playing teacher.”

Hermione laughed out loud, it wasn’t as if Draco had to drive back through treacherous road conditions, fortunately the inclement weather didn’t affect the floo network.

“Oh great so, not content in leaving me with your father, I now have to tell him you won’t be back for another day. Thanks!”

Hermione enjoyed teasing Draco, although it wasn’t nearly as much fun when he wasn’t actually around. There was a deathly silence from the grate, and even the distortion of a floo call failed to hide Draco’s embarrassment.

“Go on ferret, bugger off back to your …… whatever. I am sure I can manage a discussion or two on ancient runes. And pander to your father’s ego on what a wonderful collection of books the Malfoy Library has. Maybe throw in a game of chess to really liven things up.”

“Sounds riveting, Granger, you are a pair well matched. Ok gotta go. See you Wednesday.” The flames faded slightly and Draco vanished from view. His throw away words ringing in Hermione’s ears.

“Was that Draco’s voice I heard?” Lucius enquired as he returned, another bottle clasped in his hand.

“Yes it was. He says the _flying_ _lessons_ are going well,” Hermione added a little cough, purely for effect. “However the weather has taken a turn for the worse and he has decided to stay another day, so will be back on Wednesday.” Hermione sounded as if she were reading a holiday postcard as she filled Lucius in on the call.

“Draco was actually concerned that I was ok and that you were behaving yourself. I reassured him on both counts. Of course our ideas of you behaving yourself are quite different.”

A lascivious smile stretched across the elder Malfoy’s face, his grey eyes darkening.

Refilling their glasses, which sat on the stone hearth, he sat the bottle alongside them, and re-joined Hermione on the sofa. Once more pulling her along the length of his hard body

“Excellent, that means I have you to myself for another day……..hmm now what am I going to do with you?”

Hermione found the situation rather amusing. It was another, like father, like son moment. Lucius’ glee as perceptible as Draco’s.  Reminding her of the night of the Halloween Feast at Hogwarts. Father and son, spending the evening in almost identical scenarios, talk about déjà vu.

Poor Draco, thinking he was being so crafty and deceitful. As if anyone could have the upper hand over Lucius in the cunning and devious stakes. Lucius Malfoy was the personification of a Slytherin, a very sexy Slytherin, and Draco had a long way to go, on either count to catch up. 

“Well” She said coyly, her fingers playing with the smattering of dark blonde hair that peaked from his open shirt. Her hand running tantalisingly over the fastened buttons.

“You can start by………” Her hand drifted to his chest. “By telling me why you have a bottle of very expensive shampoo with Gilderoy Lockhart’s face on it?”

A smile tugged at Lucius’ lips as he slipped his hand under her soft cashmere sweater, running it gently over her bare back.

“Quid pro quo?” He asked once more, his fingers dancing roguishly along her spine.

Hermione eyed him warily, but agreed none the less.

His eyes narrowed, his face becoming very serious, Hermione felt a tiny frisson of fear follow in the wake of his fingers.

“I want to know.” He looked down his aristocratic nose at her, his nostrils flaring.

She felt her heart beating faster in her chest, hammering against him.

“I want to know, what you would rather wade through troll bogies than do?”

Relief flooded Hermione’s body, repressing her laughter at the fact that he was still so curious about that snippet of conversation he’d overheard. But she responded in the same vein that the question had been asked. Looking fearfully at Lucius, her voice small and barely audible she replied: “Very well.”

Lucius stretched towards the fireplace, capturing the stem of one of the newly replenished glasses between his fingers. He took a long thoughtful swig.

“As I am sure you will recall, your former Defence Against the Dark Arts master, was, before a memory charm backfired on him, a prolific writer.”

Hermione recalled vividly, remembering the stack of books he foisted upon Harry, when they had met at his book signing in Flourish and Blotts.

 “A potion concocted by him, well let’s just say, came into my possession. It was written in great detail and was attached to a couple of letters from Apothecaries turning down its production as being too expensive and _dangerous_ for the open market. Lockhart of course had a propensity, to exaggerate everything, including his own talents.  However, the potion had its merits and I had both the resources and facility to produce it, giving me something legitimate to do, after..……well it proved to be a very lucrative investment.”

Lucius paused to take another sip of his wine, pouring a little more into Hermione’s glass as she listened attentively.

“Gilderoy Lockhart was considered a bit of charmer with the ladies, mostly by himself. But as the product was aimed at them, putting his face on the label seemed like a good idea. As it happens I was right.  Despite the ridiculously expensive price tag, it’s one of my apothecary’s biggest selling lines, along with its associated products.”

“And clearly it does exactly what it says on the bottle.” Hermione said, stroking Lucius’ lustrous and silky blonde hair.

“So, Hermione.” He smiled at her with wolf like intent.  “What is it that you would you rather wade through troll bogies than do?”

The revulsion on his face, was as tangible as that in his voice.

“It must have been a pretty horrific alternative.”

Hermione took an equally large sip of her wine and replaced the glass on stone hearth.

“It was the worst” She said screwing up her face, shuddering at the thought.

“Draco had asked me if I’d had a good night, at the party.”

She reminded him, perhaps a little unnecessarily, but she wanted to set the scene.

“The fact he was half asleep across the kitchen table, not to mention a little rough around the edges that morning. I had replied to him, that clearly it wasn’t as good as his.”

Lucius was now studying her fixedly, enthralled. He had no inkling where this revelation would lead.

Hermione winced at the recollection of Draco’s words and their implied outcome.

“Draco’s words at the time, and I quote verbatim were:  _Well unless Snape turned out to be a red hot older man, who plied you with my father’s expensive champagne all night and shagged you senseless, probably not._ The part of my response to this, which you missed was, _Sex with Snape…….I would rather wade through troll bogies”_

Lucius looked at her long and hard, not seeing the response she had envisaged, reflected in his pale grey eyes.

“The fact that Severus was particularly tactile that evening, I doubt he felt the same way. It was perhaps just as well I charmed that little strand of green silk”

The smile, he was trying to keep from his lips, materialised in his eyes.

“It’s a good job that your son did not acquire the skill of a legilimens, or I would have been in trouble.”

“Prey do tell my dear, what _were_ you thinking!”

Hermione’s eyes sparkled almost much as Lucius’.

“I was thinking…….that thankfully I couldn’t attest to Professors Snape’s credentials, but you certainly fit the bill.”

“Oh is that so.”

His fingers danced erotically up across her bare back. Despite their closeness during the afternoon, this was the first time since they had left the wet room that there had been any inference of sexual intimacy. She had felt him move against her several times, since they had taken up their position on the sofa, shifting his weight or to hold her. But this was the first time she had felt his lower body visibly stir against her. Hermione’s body responded immediately, heat coursing through her body, arousal piercing her veins.

Lucius had his own feelings, on what his son might have thought, but wanted to know how Hermione thought he would have reacted.

“I was just wondering” Lucius said amusement and curiosity lacing his voice. “What my son might have said to that.”

Hermione imagined more coffee would have been sprayed over the kitchen table.

“I don’t imagine he would have been too happy about it.”

“And why would that be. He is no longer a child and is in no position to judge.” He was clearly peeved by her response.

“Honestly. I don’t think it’s a case of judging. In fact I think Draco might have the same opinion as you when it comes to double standards. But I think your so called friend, having sex with your father behind your back is pushing the boundaries too far. And knowing your son as I do now I don’t think he would take too kindly to the fact we lied to him.”

Hermione could see Lucius was thinking about what she had just said. His stormy grey eyes calculating something.

“We have not lied to him. We simply haven’t told him anything.”

“Semantics!” She chided at Lucius.

The smart young witch had a point, but so did he. And as she had pointed out to him earlier, over a very different conversation, they were both right.

“Maybe.” He conceded. “But, technically it’s perfectly true. Draco asked if you minded being left alone here with me. You replied no. Was that a lie?”

“No it wasn’t.” Hermione admitted.

“Has my son asked you anything about me, where you have lied to him?”

Hermione thought for a moment, her mind quickly racing through her encounters with Lucius and any conversations that might have ensued with Draco.

“No.” She again affirmed. Beginning to feel like she were up before the Wizengamot.

“Have you ever lied to Draco about anything concerning our…..friendship.”

Again she thought for a moment, the little strand of green silk came to mind. It was the only time she’d had to really think of a reason for Draco, other than the exact truth, but even then. He hadn’t actually asked her anything directly, and her explanation had not been a lie. The little piece of silk was charmed and it did have sentimental value.

She shook her head. “No, actually I haven’t. You are quite right. I, we, just haven’t told him anything. Really I am not sure if that makes things better or worse.”

“Would you prefer that he knew?” Lucius asked without preamble.

Hermione hadn’t expected that, she didn’t know how to respond. She was still unsure of what this was with Lucius. It had had somehow turned into more than just sex, but how much more?

“Are you ashamed of our relationship Hermione?”

Hermione looked angrily into his face, those grey blue eyes of his once more clouded, but this time she saw something else in their depths, something she had only really seen once before. Fear.

Her anger softening immediately. But it hadn’t gone unobserved by Lucius.

“No” She said vehemently. “Not at all, it’s just…..”

She stopped, she didn’t want him to feel she was making more of _this,_ than it was. He had used the word relationship, but it could be interpreted in many ways. Yes they were lovers, and she was more than happy with that. But she wasn’t comfortable with the idea of telling Draco.

“What, my brave little Gryffindor, it’s just what?”

He was even more the sexy Slytherin now, a lot had happened since that particular exchange. He was _her_ sexy Slytherin, or was he, was she presuming too much? She had the courage then, she was not going to allow it to fail her now.

“It’s just, I don’t know what exactly our relationship is. And whilst Draco might be comfortable with the fact he is simply having sex with a school governor, who is twice his age. I don’t want him think….knowing I am just having sex with his father.”

She was sure that came out as a load of garbled rubbish, and waited for an aristocratic, what the hell are you babbling on about from Lucius. It didn’t come.

Lucius didn’t miss the modification of her words. He looked at the young woman sprawled across him. The feisty, compassionate, intelligent, beautiful, young woman sprawled across him. Is his mind he knew exactly what their relationship was, and precisely what that strange little feeling, devoid of lust that kept bubbling away in his stomach was.    

“I think……I hope.”

This time it was the usually eloquent Lucius Malfoy who was struggling with his words.

“Hermione, this is a situation I have not found myself in for…..” He smiled ruefully “For probably as many years as you have been born. But _I know_ whatever our relationship is, it is about more than just sex. I trust that my words do not offend or frighten you, and that you do not feel I am being presumptuous in any way. But at this moment you are my friend and my lover. Is that too much?”

Hermione’s eyes were bright with tears. He had clearly struggled with the words, not wanting to overwhelm her but at the same, time letting her know that she was more than just sexual gratification.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself up his body, her lips capturing his in a soft kiss.

“I would say that is just about perfect.”

Kissing him harder, she felt his arousal swell, a little moan escaping his lip as she moved against him.

“I like having you as my friend Lucius Malfoy, but right now, I would very much like you as my lover.”

 

The thick, rich cotton, felt soft and deliciously cool against his warm cheek.  The same rich thick cotton felt equally as soft, but gloriously sensual beneath his naked body.

Her lips felt a magnificently arousing combination of all of these sensations as they moved slowly across his back.  Lucius allowed his eyes to flutter closed, savouring the feeling as they continued their gentle yet powerful assault on his senses.

Hermione seemed to have somehow taken control since once more finding herself apparated to the master bedroom. 

The removal of their clothing, had been a sensual, reciprocal indulgence, done without the aid of magic, resulting in a pile of discarded items on the carpet. Their kissing had been tender and tentative, almost as if it had been their first time together. It had however landed them in the middle of Lucius’ bed, amidst a joyous tangle of arms, legs and bare flesh.

Unsure how Lucius ended up face down, Hermione took full advantage and subsequent control of the situation. Sitting astride him, she met no resistance.

She pushed his hair away from his handsome profile, so it fanned out on to the pillow next to him. Her lips travelling from the corner of his mouth, and across an unusually stubbled cheek, enjoying the faint scratchiness against her own. Reaching his ear, her tongue slowly and deliberately traced the shell.

Feeling her feminine heat across his lower back and her warm breath against his face Lucius couldn’t supress a pleasured moan.  Her weight pressing him into the bed, he relished the friction against his swelling arousal.

Hermione swapped lips for teeth, nipping her way down his neck, across his shoulder and back again. Leaving her tongue to work its own kind of magic as it trailed down his spine, peppering the muscled planes of his back from time to time, with hot open mouthed kisses. 

Her small delicate fingers finally tracing the raised flesh of the scars marring the pale skin on his lower back. She could feel the tension gradually seeping into his body as she touched them.   Wriggling backwards, so she sat astride his legs, she replaced her tentative fingers, with her tongue, the tip drawing over each one. Before kissing it gently and moving on to the next.

The tremor that rippled through Lucius’s body had nothing to do with the humiliation or revulsion he felt for the marks that branded his body. The tension that had slowly crept into him begin to ebb away, leaving behind a peculiar sense of peace. 

Again she had the profound ability to surprise him. That she could even bare to look at them, let alone touch them with the same adulation that she had bestowed on every other part of him, was beyond his comprehension.

The largest and deepest of the scars, was on the very top of his left buttock, where it joined his back. It was an odd shaped mark, a little like the letter Y. There were two puncture like wounds at one end, the skin then looked like it had been torn and peeled away in two separate lines, before meeting and turning into a long tail of raised flesh.

She traced the white furrowed flesh virtually indiscernibly with the tip of her forefinger. As Hermione had touched each of the scars, she had found herself wondering how he had acquired them, how painful they had been? Not that she would ever ask him. But this one, its depth and odd shape arousing her curiosity even more.

“Nagini.” Lucius said his voice husky and quiet, half muffled by the pillow.

Hermione’s horrified gasp was audible in the silent room, her finger stilling instantly. Recalling with horror the huge, vicious snake that belonged to Lord Voldemort. 

Lucius turned under her, pulling her against him, he rolled them both over, pinning her beneath him.

He knew only too well the silent unasked question that was racing through her mind. He would tell her. He would tell her anything she wanted to know, but not now.

“Another time.” He whispered against her slightly parted lips.

His inextricably soft kiss was firm and passionate. His mouth moving over hers in that same gentle exploration they had enjoyed earlier. She responded in the same manner. It might have been a fanciful idea, but Hermione got the distinct impression that he was demonstrating that this was about more than just sex.

Lucius had felt her wet heat as she straddled him, he knew she was more than ready for him, he needed her. He gently nudged her legs apart. His mouth still fused with hers, their tongues duelling and caressing each other. He wanted to bury himself deep within the amazing you woman, who despite reminding him of the dreadful things he had done in the past, and what he had himself endured, was in so many ways helping the heal and banish them.

“Lucius.” His name fell from her lips as a question and as an appeal.

In one fluid movement, he thrust gently but firmly into her. Hermione’s back arching of the bed to meet him, her gasp of pleasure reverberating around the room. His potent arousal filling and stretching her.  Hermione’s hands once more drifted to his back, caressing the flat planes.  He captured her hands with his and moved them above her head, pinioning them on either side of her body. It was a gloriously dominant gesture which sent a fresh rush of arousal through her. 

Their eyes met, hers burning honey brown, his fiery pools of molten silver. He moved only slightly, a tiny rocking motion that evoked the most incredible sensations, her inner walls tightening around him, drawing him in.  His tumescence fully sated within her own body, Lucius began to move with more force, surging within her.

Unable to move her arms Hermione lifted her legs, wrapping them around him, he pulled back slowly and then lunged forward once more with the same slow precision, inflicting the maximum pleasure on the young woman writhing beneath him. 

What tumbled from her lips was undistinguishable as words, a succession of moans and cries as he pulsed within her, her own muscles clinging to him.

He moaned her name as he continued to thrust into her with that same unhurried, blissful accuracy. Pleasure rippled through her body, consuming her totally, every movement pushing her nearer and nearer to the edge.

 There had been no long build up to this, is was purely about the moment.

Lucius felt her muscles flutter around his hard sheathed fleshed, her silky juices coating him as he moved slowly but forcefully back and forth, the sensation was exquisite. His thrusts became harder, a deep groan of satisfaction accompanying them.

 Hermione squeezed her inner walls, the action causing her to feel every nuance of him, and making his movements more erratic, finally sending her teetering over the edge and taking him with her.

 

After their previous encounters of the day, their climaxes were less ferocious but none the less intense, Lucius breathlessly falling against her. Hermione’s hands now free she wrapped them around him, holding him close, enjoying the feel of his rapidly beating heart against her own.

The rich thick cotton, felt soft and deliciously cool against his sweating back,  The same rich thick cotton felt equally as soft but gloriously sensual against his sated body. Her lips were welcome and indulgent as they brushed against his. Lucius allowed his eyes to flutter closed, savouring the feel of Hermione as she snuggled into his embrace and they slowly drifted off to sleep.


	19. The Return of The Prodigal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course it had to happen didn't it......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My usual thanks for kudos and comments and the inevitable apologies for any faux pas in whatever form they might be.
> 
> I am so glad you are still enjoying the story and will continue to do so........

 

 

Hermione was a little disorientated when she woke up. She had spent the last three nights, well two nights and one very early morning, sleeping at Malfoy Manor, she had grown accustomed to her room and her surroundings. Today, the room and her surroundings were unfamiliar.

Nothing could have prepared her for the huge wave of delight that washed over her when she realised she was in Lucius’ bed. Sleeping with him and waking up with him, was a very different feeling, to him just falling asleep and her slipping from his bed in the early hours.

She lay silent and unmoving, hoping that she hadn’t had the most erotic dream of her life and was just moments away from actually waking up in her small bed at Hogwarts.

In the stillness she could sense his body, he wasn’t touching her but he was so close she could feel him. The warmth emanating from his solid frame, as the length of him stretched out behind her. In the soundless room she could hear his breathing, regular and heavy as his slept. Hermione shifted onto her back, taking care not to disturb the sleeping man.

He too was laying on his back, his head tilted slightly to one side. His long blonde hair still fanned out around him, like a halo on the white cotton pillow. Even in sleep and a little disarray, it maintained its sleekness. One arm rested to the side of him, millimetres from Hermione, the other was across his flat stomach.  The covers had slipped down his body, leaving his chest bare. Hermione watched for a moment as it rose and fell in sync with his relaxed and content breathing.  The sheet now rested at an enticing angle across his broad hips, barely high enough to cover his modesty. A little quiver of delight trickled through her, knowing what lay beneath, the luxurious cotton.  

From the bed Hermione could see there was no wintery sunshine filtering into the room, the sky was a dreary grey colour, probably full of more snow. She wondered what the time was, not that she really cared. It didn’t matter if they stayed here all day. A silly smile on her face, Hermione closed her eyes and stretched languorously.

A heavy arm snaked across her midriff as Lucius rolled on to his side: “Mmmmm, that’s much better.”

His voice was low and husky from sleep. “I like waking up and finding you in my bed. It feels rather naughty.” A slow lazy smile crept across his still sleepy face.

“I like waking up and finding myself in your bed.” she admitted moving into his embrace. Her face against his chest, she inhaled deeply, savouring the warm masculine scent of him.

His arm tightened around her as he nuzzled into her hair.

“Is there anything in particular you would like to do today?” Hermione asked, loving the feel of his hand as it moved in low sensuous strokes across her back. 

“I thought perhaps we might ensconce ourselves in the library and read.”

Hermione’s brain stopped momentarily, wondering if she had heard correctly. Lucius wanted to spend the day, in the library reading.  Perhaps he wanted to be able to tell Draco he had read his Tale of Ancient Runes, when he returned tomorrow.  She couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, whilst not actually expecting to spend the day in bed and despite her love of the library………

“A rather _interesting_ book came into my possession, a few days ago and I only managed to read a paragraph or two.”

Hermione could feel Lucius’ grey eyes upon her. The cogs in her stationery brain, slowly beginning to turn in realisation.  “Oh” She said quietly, containing the excitement that danced over her body.

 

“Now where did I get to?” Lucius asked as he fished Hermione’s erotic best seller out from behind the cushion, where he had secreted it away at Draco’s untimely arrival.

 Hermione was curled up under his free arm. Enveloped in the delicious scent of him and that overwhelming presence that he exuded.                                                                                                                    

“As I _vaguely_ recall.” She said, her voice hopefully giving the impression that she was trying to do precisely that, when actually she knew exactly where Lucius’ aristocratic tones had ceased reading.

“The hero had just been undone and was ejaculating into the back of the heroine’s mouth”.

She viewed the dark wizard with wide eyed innocence. Trying not to smile at the somewhat surprised look on his face. Uncertain as to whether it was her perfect recall or the words on her lips which caused the now familiar raised eyebrow.

“Yes I remember, silly of me not to mark the page.”

He flicked through the book for a few moments, trying to find where he had got to. Patience was not a virtue with which Lucius had been blessed, and after several more minutes of searching, he was clearly becoming irritated.

“I very much doubt, that plot features very heavily in this book. I will just pick up somewhere?”

Hermione didn’t answer, she was more than happy with him picking up anywhere he liked. It wasn’t the story that enthralled her. His aristocratic and sexy tones reading the erotic and graphic text was all she wanted.  

“Hmm, I don’t think this is a very good place to resume.” Lucius turned another page or so. “It seems like some sort of list or ……..for Salazar’s sake.”

Complete silence engulfed the room as Lucius seemed to lose himself within the pages of the book.

What sort of book was this, it read more like a torture manual for Azkaban, than romantic fiction. This was very different from the part he had read aloud.

Experienced as he might consider himself as a man, he couldn’t help but wonder if some of the things contained in what he assumed was a contract, were even possible, let alone enjoyable in any way. However he could not stop his imagination drifting down that unknown path.

Glancing up, Hermione caught Lucius eye as he once more began to read……aloud.

“Hands bound behind back. Binding to fixed items, furniture etc. Bondage with rope. Bondage with shackles, manacles.

Hermione herself had never considered any of the things that Lucius read from the book, but as he continued to read, his cut glass tones, caressing and enunciating each word, her blood began to heat and her mind began to race.

“Spanking, whipping, biting, ice.  Using my body as you see fit sexually or otherwise” The room momentarily lapsed into silence once more. 

“You didn’t answer my question Hermione.” He finally said, looking up from the open book.

Her face was questioning, her honey brown eyes searching his.

“The other morning, before my son’s untimely arrival, I asked you if you found the content arousing. Do you?”

His free hand had drifted under her clothes, his thumb gently circling her bare skin.

“I did, until you started reading it.” She paused fleetingly, watching a little flicker of dismay flash across his devastating attractive face. “Then I found it incredibly arousing.”

“Is that so?” The look of dismay quickly changing to one of mild conceit.

“MMM. The way you read, the way that sexy voice of yours sounds when using such explicit and coarse language, how could I not be.”

Flattered as he was, it wasn’t quite the answer Lucius was looking for. Considering their past, he wasn’t sure if asking her if she liked the idea of being tied up and whipped, was a wise course of action.

“What about you Lucius?” She suddenly asked, her honey brown eyes once more fixed upon him. “Does a former Death Eater, enjoy the notion of, restraining a woman and inflicting physical pain on her?”

Hermione was pushing her luck here and she knew it. She felt his body tense beneath her, but for some bizarre reason a little part of her wanted to stir the Lucius Malfoy of old. Bring out that daunting and menacing presence. She knew it would have a very different effect on her now, to the one that it had once had.  Especially in the current circumstances.

 

His grey eyes, turned the colour of slate and she felt the pressure of his thumb biting into her flesh.

It wasn’t anger that Lucius felt stirring at her words, it was his cock.  He was no fool. She was goading him. But, whilst their past still restrained him, clearly she had no such qualms, it fired more than just his arousal.

“There are many ways to _inflict pain_ Hermione. The idea of you restrained and at my mercy does however, _stir_ a certain interest”.

The tone of his voice had adopted a silken menace in its timbre. Hermione felt a little shiver run through her veins, with it ran desire, hot and slick in her blood. The thought of being at Lucius Malfoy’s mercy, awakened every nerve in her body. What was she thinking, more to the point what was he thinking?

An “Accio quill” summoned Lucius Christmas gift from the desk.

“Tell me Hermione.” Lucius asked stroking the long feather around her neck as he had done in Scrivenshafts.

“Would you like to stay here or should I take you somewhere more appropriate _?”_

The little shiver of fear increased, as did the searing heat of desire. What exactly did he have in mind? Hermione had tickled this dragon a while back, knowing it was always going to be a dangerous path, but like the girl in the book, she was drawn to his darkness, to the thrill of the unknown.

“Somewhere else.” She said. Her voice might have been hushed and a little shaky, but her curiosity was rampant.

“Are you sure Miss Granger?” He asked, with that same smooth threating tone. Addressing her thus, giving his words even more sinister undertones.

Whatever laced his voice, Hermione only saw faith in the depths of his lust filled eyes.  Whatever _pain_ he intended on inflicting on her, Hermione had the feeling she was going to enjoy every minute of it.

“Yes, Mr Malfoy, I am sure.”

 

Unlike both Harry and Ron, Hermione had not seen the dungeons at Malfoy Manor. She had been held by the deranged Bellatrix Lestrange. Tortured in the drawing room, whilst her friends languished below stairs. Draco had not included them on his “edited highlights tour”, because he was afraid of awakening unwanted memories, in truth, other than assuming that was where her friends were being imprisoned, the low dark dungeons held no memories for Hermione. She knew that was all about to change.

There was no soft landing, following this apparation and Hermione found her head spinning just a little bit.  Unsure as to whether the violent movement were responsible, or the man whose solid chest she found hard against her back.  His hands clutched her upper arms tightly and she trembled against him. He felt different somehow, not just his demeanour. Turning to face him, Hermione realised some quick magic, probably after they had apparated, had attired Lucius Malfoy in his customary robes.

Gone was the soft black pullover, replaced by a more severe black shirt and a long immaculately tailored high buttoned jacket. His now imposing appearance, close proximity and the thrill of anticipation exciting her beyond reason.

In one hand he held the quill from Scrivenshafts, in the other was his serpent headed cane. Hermione’s mind flashed back to their first heated encounter in the Hogwarts dungeons.

 

The dungeons at the school were much higher than these at the Manor. These were much more oppressive in their narrowness, more ominous in their darkness.  They were low and rambling, a veritable rabbit warren of corridors and rooms, tiny chinks of light filtered through narrow windows around the top. The low ceilings and dim light, mingled with Lucius’ intimidating presence, caused Hermione’s heart to beat rapidly and her breath to shorten.

He took her by the hand and led her along the maze of corridors. Stopping at a dark, heavy wooden door, he twisted the wrought iron handle, the door opened slowly. A distinct smirk lifted Lucius’ lips. The room beyond was immersed in darkness, there were no little windows to lighten it. Hermione followed Lucius into the blackness. Without removing his wand from his cane. She heard him cast an incendio charm, the candles around the room burst into life, illuminating the room and casting long shadows across the stone floor. In a simple hearth of the same stone, a pile of wood burst into crackling flames.

Whilst not a room of sexual torture or domination, some of its contents could have easily come from between the pages of her book. Hermione wondered what this room had been used for as she took in the queen sized four poster bed and leather sofa. A small alcove housed a Tudor style chair, whilst a matching one across the room, was home to what looked like some very expensive wine, in a tall wooden wrack.

“Turn around.”

Hermione immediately complied with his clipped order. Feeling his deft fingers at her nape, but instead of caressing the sensitive flesh between them, he caught her hair between them and lifted it from her neck. Catching it in ponytail, high on her head, much like the one she had worn in the quill shop. Secured it would seem, by the never too far away, little strand of green silk.

An amused little smile lifted her lips. It hadn’t been a part of the book Lucius had read, not out loud anyway, but the eponymous male of the title did a similar thing. Her breath hitched in her throat as she recalled what came next.

Whether it was impatience or a demonstration of power, Hermione wasn’t sure, but as the fire in the grate grew stronger, her clothes vanished under a quiet utterance from the Master.

 

Despite the feeling of total exposure, Hermione’s hands didn’t instinctively move to cover herself. Lucius was still behind her, outside her line of peripheral vision. She didn’t turn around to look at him, for some reason, she didn’t dare. She could feel the intensity of his gaze upon her bare back, she knew intuitively, that his eyes had once again turned that extreme shade of grey blue.

The expectation of his touch was making her body ache and throb with an all-consuming need, which almost hurt. She knew now what he had meant by there being more than one way to inflict pain.

She felt a gentle warmth blow against her neck and along her bare shoulder. She gasped as his sharp teeth bit down painfully into the soft flesh that joined the two, moaning imperceptibly as the hurt was soothed away, with the touch of his soft sensuous lips. His silky mane of blonde hair cascaded over her shoulder and fell across a sensitive breast.

“Hold out your hands.” His quiet commanding voice instructed from just behind her ear. His hand gently encircling her neck.

Again without question, or hesitation, Hermione did as he instructed. Again she heard a hushed utterance from him, immediately feeling something tighten around her outstretched hands, tugging her slowly forward, feeling Lucius close at her heel. The tip of his cane clicking on the hard stone floor. In a room devoid of sound, it was almost deafening.

The invisible restraints at her wrists, were strong and unyielding like leather, but with the caressing softness of velvet. They pulled her closer to the queen sized bed, the dark purple coverings inviting her into their depths. Lucius’ magical fetters halted her, stopping her short of the enticing silk. Each arm bound to a post at the foot of the bed, not to cause any discomfort, but to allow maximum display as it were.

Something skated over one of Hermione’s raised arms, and across her bare back, tickling her spine and her bottom. She arched into the sensation, there was nothing close enough to lessen her aching need.  The feather, her desire clouded brain finally registered.

The deliciously gossamer like feel of the long plume was replaced by something cold and metallic. Hermione shivered apprehensively, feeling the scrape of steel against her calf. It moved unhurriedly between her legs, the bared serpent’s teeth scratching against her skin. Gradually travelling upwards, and then slowly, back down again, tapping between them. Unconsciously she shifted her stance, parting her feet, spreading her legs. Feeling the sharp withdrawal of Lucius’ cane, Hermione braced herself.

The ebony stick was stark and unbending against her pale skin. The lacquered wood too harsh to apply with any force.  A simple transfiguration incantation and it took on the flexibility of a riding crop. His hand shook ever so slightly as it connected with the soft bare curve of her bottom, filling the silent room with a loud thwack.  It wasn’t a forceful lash, but a shocked cry emanated from her. Lucius saw her flinch and watched as a red welt developed on her ivory flesh.

For all of his old ways, and whatever people might think, Lucius had never physically laid a hand on anyone, man, woman nor beast come to that.  His lightly trembling fingers tenderly traced the angry mark, regret and loathing seeping into his body as he felt Hermione lean into him. His instincts had been right, the book did read like a torture manual from Azkaban and he really wasn’t sure that pleasure could be derived from such acts.  Certainly not for him.

His own body, whilst enjoying having her movements restricted and her body laid open to him in this way, whilst loving how her skin quivered to the touch of the feather, derived no such pleasure or arousal from inflicting physical pain on her. He had seen enough pain, and in this very house too. He had the marks upon his own body from it.

His cane one again assumed its hard lacquered form as it clattered, discarded on to the floor.

The mark on her arse burned, Hermione knew that Lucius had not used any real force in his first blow, it had been tentative and testing.  His fingers against her throbbing flesh however, had been cool and tender and arousal once more was the only heat that burned her skin.  She leaned into him, feeling the rough wool of the robes he wore abrading against her bare skin. The sting forgotten.  He felt so good, the intoxicating scent of him stronger than ever.  

He moved around her, seating himself arrogantly on the bed before her.

Hermione had heard something hit the floor and now realised, it was his cane. Lucius just held the long coloured plume between his fingers. He brushed it provocatively over her tummy, her muscles fluttering at its delicate touch, her body arcing towards him.

“Keep still Miss Granger.” He warned, the gentle menace once more back in his voice.

Hermione did as she was told, the feather travelling across her breasts. Their silky fronds caressing her pert nipples, desire raced through her.  She could feel her dampness, hot and slick, the feather moving slowly towards it. Hermione couldn’t supress the moan the fell unbidden from her lips as the thickness of the shaft slid between her legs, tracing her seam.  The lightness of its touch was nowhere near enough to quench her need.

“Quiet.” His instruction was harsh and monosyllabic, but his pale grey eyes, glittered with a warm but wicked intensity.

Lucius couldn’t deny that this was arousing him. Passion once more stirring his blood, his erection straining within the confines of his finely tailored trousers. Teasing and tormenting her skin, watching it ripple and twitch as he touched it, now this was erotic. He shifted against his burgeoning arousal, moving forward, he could smell the musky sent of her and it enflamed his senses. A light sheen of perspiration covered her skin as she fought to control her reactions to him.

Hermione felt no embarrassment under his penetrating gaze. Greedy, lust soaking up her naked form.

Controlling her body against his touch, or the exquisitely light touch of the feather was difficult enough. The sound of his voice and the way he looked, made it nigh on impossible. Her body and her mind reacted to every nuance, every deliberate movement he made.

The fact that she couldn’t touch him, heightened all of her other senses. The heady exotic fragrance of his cologne, mingled with the sheer masculine scent of him. His clipped authoritative voice, was accentuated for effect, the sound of it, stroked parts of her that nothing else could reach, evoked feelings nothing else could.

She watched as he rose in front of her, a hair’s breadth between them. Hermione ached to lean into him, for the rough wool of his robes to once again rub against her skin, but she had been forbade to move and remained motionless. His mouth devoured hers, still he didn’t touch her, the plume ghosting across her back. Her body and her mind were melting into incoherent mush.

The agony of not being able to touch him, or him not actually touching her, was more unbearable, than the pain of any flogging.

Lucius ensured that only their mouths connected, his body not quite touching hers. One hand at his side, the other still clasping the plume, which played over her bare back and thighs. His kiss was deep and in complete contrast with their surroundings and his original intent. Sweet and seductive.  His lips coxing her mouth open, his tongue moving erotically against hers.

Hermione was totally lost, every part of her body tingled with a strange combination of absolute pleasure and painful aching need. Like the dulcet tones of his voice, his tongue seemed to reach and stroke parts of her, unreachable to a mere touch.  Even with the space between them, Hermione could feel the heat emanating from his body. Her fingers flexed and curled back into a tight fist, straining against the unseen shackles which bound her to the bed and left her completely at his mercy.  

Lifting his head, Lucius looked deep into her brown eyes, dragging his hot tongue across the seam of her lips, he never broke their eye contact.  Bringing the feather between her legs he rubbed it against her glistening sex.  A slow indulgent smile settling on his mouth as, a small scream of pleasure escaped from Hermione.  He wondered what she would do if he suddenly released her, like releasing a caged animal starved of food. Perhaps he would torment her just a little bit more……….

Hermione’s brain was trying to comprehend how it was possible to physically want someone so much, for your body so endure so much pain and so much pleasure at the same time. It had long since caught up with the fact that the person who drove her to this desperate need was Lucius Malfoy. Her body for its part, had been totally consumed by that side of her and just wanted him whatever.

She knew there was no way she could override the powerful dark magic that kept her, restrained and bound to the bed, and even if there was, she very much doubted that her brain was thinking clearly enough to summon such a spell.  She let her frustration out through her hands and her mouth, the only parts that she were able to move freely, without fear of reprisal.  She knew reprisal would not involve any further lashings. That part of her book did not seem to appeal to even the dark side of a former death eater.  Her wandering mind was dragged back to the present, when his teeth once more connected with her flesh.  This time with her lip, retribution no doubt for the blood she had drawn previously.  Hermione couldn’t help herself, biting back at him, catching his soft lip, once more between her own sharp teeth and sucking it in to her mouth.

Both of their eyes flew open.  Hot chocolate brown, collided with stormy slate grey. Hermione saw the gauntlet go down and realising her wrists were free, she grabbed it. All but lunging at Lucius, flinging him back onto the bed behind. Her small fingers practically clawing at his buttons, which pinged and shot across the room.  In her case it was definitely impatience that resorted her to the use of magic to remove his clothing.

Hermione saw the devilish glint in his eyes and she wished she had the patience to torment him. Perhaps another day, but not now. Now she needed him. Legs astride him, Hermione impaled herself on his more than ready shaft. No matter how ready either of them were for this, nothing prepared them for the moment.

Lucius filling and stretching her as he buried himself deep inside her.

Hermione tight and wet as she found a rhythm and rode him hard.

His fingers bit into her hips as she moved across his throbbing shaft. Hers scrapping his chest as he pushed up into hot wet core. His ragged guttural growls filling the air along with her wanton cries.  Hermione threw her head back, thrusting herself forward, her hands falling behind her to clasp his powerful thighs. 

Lucius gripped her hips, stilling her movements momentarily to savour the feel of her clenched around him, her muscles tightened, fluttering against his flesh sheathed within her. Relaxing his grasp, she began to move once more.

It was too much for both of them. Him surging once more as her walls absorbed him totally. They came together in shattering, almost violent climax. The results of which melded them together even more completely.  Panting, Hermione fell against his own heaving chest, his spent cock slipping from her sated body.

This time she didn’t complain about the cleansing charm he performed, she didn’t have the energy for anything else.  She just wanted to curl up with Lucius, feel his arms around her and enjoy the afterglow of their desperate, heated coupling. But not here.

Bot dressed, Lucius back in his soft pullover and dark trousers, he apparated them back upstairs. At Hermione’s request to his study. 

“Music?” He asked quietly.

Hermione nodded, snuggling tightly against him. Déjà vu.

Soft candlelight and the ever present fire lit the room.  Lucius wrapped himself around her almost protectively.

The warmth from the fire, the beautiful soft music and their exertions causing them to drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.

Hermione vaguely heard a knocking noise, thinking it was the fire, or maybe one of the house elves she thought nothing of it, snuggling closer to Lucius. His cough suddenly rousing her. But it wasn’t Lucius clearing his throat, his chest rose and fell in slumber under her cheek. Hermione’s brown eyes lifted from the dark wizard beneath her. Clashing with a pair of cold blue eyes, looking down on her.

“Draco!” She exclaimed struggling to sit up and free herself from his father’s embrace. “You’re back.”

“Clearly” He said his voice as low as his father’s and as cold as his eyes. Turning abruptly he left the room.


	20. Sorry Makes No Sense Without Honest Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of you will love this chapter, some of you will hate it. Whichever side of the fence you are on......I do hope you enjoy reading it. (Lights blue touch paper and retreats to a safe distance)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter was quite difficult to write, but from your comments and kudos it appears you all enjoyed it, so for that I am grateful.
> 
> The usual standing order of apologies of course still applies.

 

Hermione’s mouth was dry, her heart beating as if it were going to burst out of her chest. She struggled to extricate herself from Lucius’ warm slumbering grasp. His eyes opening sleepily, at the sudden disturbance, trying to take in the kerfuffle going on around him.

“Draco’s back.” Hermione said, her voice an octave or two higher than normal.

“And…..” Lucius appeared totally unperturbed at the information.

“And……and he just came in and we……..we were wrapped around each other like a couple of teenagers.”

Lucius had an expression on his face which reeked of, “haven’t we had this conversation” mingled with a hint of exasperation. He knew how Hermione felt about Draco finding out that there was something going on between them. Now he obviously had, as far as he was concerned his son would just have to deal with it. They were after _all_ , all adults.

He watched as Hermione paced nervously back and forth, wringing her hands and fiddling with her hair, she finally moved to the door. Trying to keep the smile off his face and the amusement from his voice he asked where she was going.

“To talk to Draco.” She looked at the still totally unconcerned elder Malfoy, who reclined on the couch. A little irked that he hadn’t volunteered to speak with his son.

“I might be gone by this evening.” She snipped a tad immaturely at him, hoping to provoke some sort of response.

Still he didn’t move, the briefest quirk creeping over his lips, before they straightened in to a thin harsh line, his grey eyes fixed firmly upon her.

“I would remind you Hermione, whatever childish tantrums my son might decide to throw. The only person permitted to _throw_ anyone out of this house is me, and whilst I am still Master of this house you will be going nowhere, unless of course you want to.”

She smiled briefly at his assurance. Then recalling the words, my son and tantrums, she too turned and left the room. 

Draco, like Ron seemed to gravitate to the kitchen in times of great stress or insurmountable anger, so Hermione thought she would start there. Bracing herself for the second time in one day for the onslaught of a Malfoy. Whilst the outcome was just as unclear, she knew this was going to be a lot less pleasant.

She tentatively pushed the heavy wooden door to the kitchen open. As she suspected Draco was there, much as he had been on Christmas morning, hunched over the kitchen table, a cup of something steaming in front of him. Hermione had the distinct impression it wasn’t the only thing steaming.  Maybe she should have taken the time to think about what she was going to say, before actually approaching her friend, if she could still call him that.

She saw his head rise slightly at the sound of the door shutting behind her. Hermione sat down cautiously at the table, her head lowered, in embarrassment, contrition, fear or quite possibly a depressing combination of all three.

“Draco….I’m…..Draco…..we….” She looked at the top of the younger blonde’s head, his eyes cast firmly down, looking into his mug. His hands were wrapped tightly around it, his knuckles white.

“Draco, I’m sorry.” It was all she could say.

She couldn’t lie to him, no more than she could lie to his father. She was sorry, but not for what she had done, but just for not telling him.  Another spark ignited deep within her. A rather fierier one.

“Actually…… I am not sorry at all.”

She continued to look at the top of his familiar blonde head. Defiance firing her temper. Hermione had never falsely apologised in her life and she wasn’t going to start now, especially not to placate a sulky Draco Malfoy. 

“I am sorry that I didn’t say anything to you, but I am buggered if I am sorry for what I did. You’ve been shagging the arse of a school governor, twice your age for months now. You left me alone, in your home, with your father, whilst you _flooed_ off to do just that! Why should I be sorry, why should I apologise?”

Draco finally raised his head, his bright blues eyes meeting her fire lit honey brown. A huge grin on his pale face.

“Well it’s about bloody time you told me! Just how stupid do you think I am Granger?”

Hermione’s jaw almost hit the table. Draco’s grin got wider, almost splitting his face in two.

“What! How?”

Now through laughter, he took a swig from his mug.

“I might be a bloke and a bit dense when it comes to these things, but well believe it or not I do know my father, or rather the things he doesn’t do as opposed to the things he does. You were good though.”

He laughed some more, pushing his seat back from the table and studying Hermione’s charmingly shocked face. It was priceless, almost the highlight of Christmas, almost.

“Your face Granger, is a picture, I thinks it’s actually more priceless, than when you realised I was in the study.”

Hermione was suspended somewhere between disbelief, anger and curiosity. It should have been Draco giving her the third degree, the angry, deceived son, instead it appeared she was the one with all the questions and the anger.

“How long have you known?” She finally managed to ask her amused friend.

“Truthfully?” The young blonde raised an eyebrow, very reminiscent of his father.

Hermione just nodded, not trusting herself to speak again.

“For certain, not very long. But something had already changed between you two, when you and I met up just before the start of term.  My father picked me up on something I said to you. He would never have done that, no offence, but not for you.”

Draco was right, changed man or not, she doubted Lucius Malfoy would not have defended a Mudblood over his son. She blanched at the reference and at the thought.

 “Then at the Halloween Feast, you didn’t mind being stuck with him, which considering how you always felt about my father was really odd.  I might have been a little _distracted_ myself, but I noticed he slipped his hand across your back. That isn’t an intuitive gesture for him, in fact I’ve only ever seen him do it with one other person.”

Draco didn’t elaborate, but Hermione guessed who he was referring to.  She had never imagined Draco being the observant type, especially when it came to his father. Boy how wrong she had been! 

“Shall I go on?” Draco asked, clearly still highly entertained, by not only the situation but Hermione’s reaction.

Oh for Merlin’s sake she thought, there was more! Just how obvious had they been? Her heart sank, but she nodded once more.

“You better get yourself a cup of tea.”

Draco was obviously enjoying himself immensely.  Hermione began to wonder if he being annoyed or upset would have been a better option. She had the distinct urge to punch the grinning young wizard on the nose, not that it would be the first time. Instead she took his advice and made herself a much needed cup of tea.

“Hmm now where shall I start?”

That was it.  A petulant, angry Draco Malfoy, she could have understood and it would have been so much easier to take. Hermione aimed a sugar lump at him, catching him just below the eye.

“OK OK, I am sorry.” He picked the cube up and dropped it in his still steaming mug

“Well without all the glaringly obvious little things, like how my father’s voice softened when he spoke to you, that he actually listened to you and to me for that matter, and that he suddenly seemed to have acquired a sense of humour. There was that sodding piece of green silk, you had around your neck at the Christmas Eve Party. Charmed for sentimental reasons my arse. That had my father’s possessive magic all over it. And when I heard what happened to Snape when he touched it, other than being sorry I missed it. That was when I knew for sure and it wasn’t just my imagination.”

Hermione sat down at the table with her freshly brewed tea. “I am sorry Draco, but really only that I didn’t tell you……You’re father and I…….”

“No…….as you say, please spare me the details, I get the picture.”

He held up his hand, pulling a nauseated face.

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh, not something she thought she would be doing anytime soon, when she had gone in search of Draco. She tapped her fingers on the table in mock impatience, to which Draco held up two hands, allowing her to continue. She wasn’t entirely sure that this was either the time, or place for a deep and meaningful conversation, but she felt she owed Draco some sort of explanation, and this was the only way she could see of achieving that at the moment.

“The day before you and I met up again at Hogwarts, I’d had tea with Professor McGonagall.”

Draco looked a little confused at her line of conversation, but he said nothing.

“When I arrived at her office, your father was there. He of course came up in conversation later, over tea.”

Draco laughed out loud “You mean gossip, I know what McGonagall’s like remember.”

“Well put it this way, it started out as conversation. Like you, and everyone else I am sure, McGonagall knew how I felt about you father, because of..……what he was…….what he had done. It didn’t take her long to fill me in on the, well I can’t call it gossip, because it wasn’t, as it happens it was all true. What he had done since the war, for the school. How hard he had worked to clear the Malfoy name. Everything…….  Anyway, I bumped into your father a little while later.”

“This isn’t going to be an _unsavoury_ story about you and my father, is it Granger, I did asked to be spared the gory details!

Hermione paused briefly, sipping her tea and hoping the heat she could feel slowing invading her body did not reach her face. She was of course going to leave out the more colourful aspects of her first encounter with Lucius Malfoy in the Hogwarts dungeons.

“No of course it isn’t. He was just wandering around, looking at the rebuilding and so forth.”

She noticed a little smirk drift across Draco’s face, the colour had definitely reached her face.

“I don’t know what is was, but something stopped me walking away from your father that afternoon. Maybe it was what McGonagall had said, maybe it was something he said. I honestly don’t know. But something…….”

Hermione knew exactly what the something was, she could still recall that afternoon vividly. Lucius’ words, the sexual tension that had rapidly escalated between them, his touch, his kiss. She quickly reigned her wandering thoughts.

“I don’t know ….but something told me that McGonagall was right, but then she usually is. That your father had changed and that maybe I should be big enough to give him the benefit of the doubt, that he deserved a second chance.”

She shrugged her shoulders at Draco. “So, Mister Smart Arse, and surprisingly perceptive, you were right. _Something_ had changed by the time you and I met up again.”

Draco studied her for a few moments before speaking.

Draco Malfoy thinking before he spoke, now this was different. Hermione waited with baited breath.

“You know what Granger, not so long ago, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.  Actually not so long ago, I wouldn’t have invited you to my house for Christmas, but little Miss Know It All yourself, as always, you are right too. Things change and so do people. I am not sure I should make you any more big headed that you already are.....but having you as my friend changed things, me. Well maybe not changed me, but made me see things differently.”

For a brief moment he couldn’t meet her eyes. The he looked up, looking squarely at her.

“At first I hated that you could be so bloody accepting, despite everything that had happened. It stirred up all those old feelings I had for you. But, well like you said about my father, something changed and I actually thought it might be more fun, more interesting, having you as my friend than my enemy.  It still feels weird sometimes that we are friends. But it’s a nice kinda weird. 

You know, you keep on telling me, how alike my father and I.  I suppose it stands to reason, that even Lucius Malfoy would not be immune from your brand of common sense, and _so forth_.” He mimicked her words, both of them knowing exactly what the, _and so forth_ meant.

Hermione was no longer in suspended animation, dangling between, surprise, curiosity and anger. Surprise engulfed her body from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. Never in her wildest imagination, and that had already been stretched to the limit, over the last few days, had she thought she would hear such words from Draco Malfoy. However, the Malfoy men seemed to have developed quite a penchant for surprising her recently. Changed was putting it mildly Minerva McGonagall.  

She looked at her friend, thankfully she could still call him that, sitting across the table. In the last few moments he seemed even more like his father than ever, it was as if he had grown up just a little bit more.  His blue eyes suddenly twinkled and narrowed and she saw Draco Malfoy, the annoying little boy once more. Here it came……

“And……..” He continued gleefully, like he had just solved the crime of the century.

Oh for pity’s sake how much more could there be, thought Hermione.

“My father _never_ comes into the kitchen.” Despite his good humour, the words were delivered in the tone of the Draco Malfoy of old, in the, _my father will hear about this_ tone, Hermione used to refer to it as.

“I would beg to differ Draco.” A threateningly low voice came from across the room.

Both of them looked up from their respective beverages as Lucius Malfoy entered the kitchen.

Lucius moved gracefully into the room, like a cat stalking his prey, he silently crossed the stone floor.

The thunderous expression on his face, softening immediately when he realised there was no malice or venom in his son’s statement. And that far from looking like she were about to flee the Manor, Hermione in fact looked quite comfortable, once more seated at his kitchen table.

 

“I even had lunch in here the other day.” He ventured. Watching his son’s reaction intently.

Even as a toddler, his son had a flair for the dramatic, and in a child with magical powers that had proved a little dangerous. As a father, all be it a somewhat surprised one, he could tell there was no irritation in Draco’s words, in fact if anything her appeared to be teasing Hermione.

“It was delicious, bubbly squeak, I think Hermione called it.”

This time it was Hermione’s turn to spray the kitchen table with her drink, she had tried not to laugh at Lucius’ mispronunciation of the meal she had cooked him, but it just made it worse.

Lucius raised that formidable eyebrow of his. Not entirely amused at her laughing quite so hard at him.

Whilst Draco simply sat back in his chair saying. “I rest my case.”

Lucius glanced from his rather smug looking son, to Hermione, who was still coughing.

“It would appear that I have missed something.” He observed, his grey eyes, still moving between the two of them.

“The fact that you are still talking to each, and Hermione does not feel the need to rush upstairs and pack, I am taking as a good sign.”

Hermione noticed that Draco seemed to have developed a renewed confidence around his father. No longer acting like a scared little boy or a dominated teenager.

It was almost impossible for anyone to meet Lucius Malfoy on an equal footing, but Draco had certainly taken a step up in the last few days. Hermione wondered if that came from him trying to understand his father or from the time he had spent with a woman considerably older than himself, more experienced, someone who could give him the guidance of a mother, amongst other things. 

Lucius’ words rang in her ears. “She will be good for Draco, for now.” Hermione began to realise exactly what he had meant by that remark, there was evidently a lot more to Lucius bringing them together than met the eye. A method in his madness, her mother would have called it.

“Do I take it then Draco, that you are not entirely unhappy with the situation?”

This time it was the younger Malfoy who looked between his father and his friend. His confidence slipping perhaps a little bit, but Hermione saw him gather it back.

“The only thing I am unhappy with, is that my friend and my father chose not to tell me. And that they thought I was stupid enough not to notice.”

Well this was certainly taking a step up. Hermione had never heard Draco speak with such self-confidence to anyone before, let alone his father. Making her squirm just a little bit more, whatever their reasons had been, not to tell Draco, he was quite right in his accusations. She wanted to defend Lucius, and tell Draco that his father had suggested they tell him, but she had been the one to say no. But pointing the finger, blaming or defending one another was not going to change anything.

“You are quite right Draco.”

It was Lucius who spoke, both sets of eyes falling on him, both a little shocked by his acquiescence.

Pride coursed through Lucius Malfoy’s veins, he had bristled at his son’s words, but then realising he could not argue with the truth, had felt nothing but admiration for him.  Speaking with such frankness was a trait Lucius greatly admired. He wished he’d had the courage to do it more often himself.

“It was remiss not to tell you. In truth, neither of us were sure how you would react. So we simply said nothing.”

It wasn’t quite the conversation that she and Lucius had had, but it was truthful enough. Clearly the elder Malfoy only wanted to impart so much to his son.

 

Finishing her tea, something suddenly occurred to Hermione: “Its Tuesday”.

“Nothing gets past the brightest witch of her age eh Granger?”

Hermione shot daggers at Draco across the table: “You said you would be home on Wednesday!”

She noticed the flush creep across his pale face and he glanced into his empty cup.

“Err well, Nemesia’s niece and nephews had to go home, so there really was no point in my staying on.”

Hermione of course knew that this wasn’t the case, as more than likely did Lucius, but she kept quiet. She would wheedle it out of him when his father wasn’t around.

 


	21. Masquerade! Burning Glances, Turning Heads.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Draco is home and its almost time for the ball......................

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual housekeeping of thank yous for kudos etc and apologies for faux pas.

 

Hermione got her chance to interrogate Draco a little later on. Lucius excused himself with some “Ministry business” after dinner, leaving the two friends alone and she pounced.

“Come on Ferret” He was back to his school nickname, now Hermione felt they were still friends.

“What?” He asked, his big blue eyes, feigning innocence, but knowing exactly what she wanted to know.

Hermione quirked a brow at him: “You know very well _what_! How come you are back a day early? The charms of Ms Fellows wearing thin, or didn’t she like your shiny new broomstick?”

“There was nothing wrong with my _broomstick_ , the old one or the new one.” A look of mock indignation crossing his face.

Hermione screwed up her nose at the implication, they had promised each other, no gory details, but it appeared neither could resist winding the other up with the odd insinuation or two.

“I am sorry to disappoint you Granger, but it was nothing very exciting or intriguing. You know she works with Weasley’s father at the Ministry, and as he is away, she was called in to deal with some problem or another. I kinda lost interest when she said she was going to have to return to London. There didn’t seem much point in hanging around at her place, so I thought I might as well come home.”

“Cheers.”

“Sorry, that wasn’t meant to come out quite like that.” He at least had the good grace to look sheepish. “Seems there’s a flap on at the Ministry as it has involved my father as well.”

With Lucius still conspicuous by his absence, Draco suggested a game of Wizard Chess. Hermione wasn’t aware he played, and was delighted to discover he did, and rather well as it happened. Better than Harry and almost as well as Ron. A particularly lengthy and barbaric game ensued.  Neither of them realising just had long the game had lasted or how late it had gotten. Draco stretched and yawned, exhausted and insufferable in victory and promptly declaring he was off to bed.

“I think I will join you.” Hermione said conversationally, not realising how her words came out.

“I really don’t think my father would approve Granger.”

Hermione looked at Draco in bewilderment, suddenly realising what she had said, she dug him playfully in the stomach.

“That’s not what I meant…..”

“I know, I know, it’s just such fun teasing you. Even more so now.” He winked at her, opening the door and allowing her to precede him from the room. The candles and fire extinguishing themselves immediately behind them.

They made their way up the stairs together, Draco still harping on about his decisive victory, before bidding her goodnight and scuttling off to his room. Hermione looked at the door to Lucius’s bedroom. He hadn’t reappeared since dinner, it just didn’t feel right entering his room. He had told her in no uncertain terms she wasn’t allowed to leave his bed in the middle of the night, but he hadn’t said anything about getting in to it.   Feeling a little unsettled and awkward, she slipped quietly into her own room.

 

Lucius Malfoy had not expected the floo call from the Ministry of Magic to go on for so long, he was non the less grateful, that he, unlike many of his peers, had not been called to London. He felt that Shacklebolt was overreacting to the situation and had flatly told him so, placating the Minister by assuring him that if the situation escalated in any way, he would of course travel to London.

By the time the call finally came to an end, Lucius was mentally drained, more from tedium than anything else and exceedingly fractious. Ever since the return of the Dark Lord, everything was considered a major incident and as far as Lucius was concerned taken far too seriously. The slightest thing coming under intense scrutiny and being investigated to its furthest ends. He understood as a relatively new Minister, Shackelbolt had to be careful and seen to be doing the right thing, but there really were limits.  Lucius did not however want to upset the Minister, he was grateful to be on such good terms with him, all things being considered. He was therefore careful with his choices of words and any opposition he showed.

Deciding against re-joining, Hermione and his son, for fear of imparting his foul mood on them.  He stood beneath the steaming jets of his serpent headed shower, the powerful stream easing the tension and stiffness in his shoulders and neck. Closing his eyes and allowing the soothing water to cascade over his body. He recalled Hermione’s delicate fingers washing his hair and soaping his skin. He found the stiffness from his neck and shoulders rapidly relocating itself to his lower body. Smiling he found himself looking forward to easing that particular tension too.

A black towel once again slung around his waist, Lucius returned to his bedroom. The fire blazed, casting a gentle shadow across the room which was otherwise bathed in a relaxing and comforting darkness. His cock hardening once more, as her heard Hermione’s voice, talking to Draco as they ascended the stairs and saying goodnight. He waited for his bedroom to open. He waited a few more moments, but it remained firmly shut.

Lucius’ body dropped in disappointment, just because his son was back in the house, he had no intention of spending his nights alone. This was his house and he would do precisely as he pleased in it. Stupid pride would have prevented the Lucius Malfoy of old going to her, but this Lucius Malfoy appreciated that life was too short for such folly. A wicked smile lifted his lips. 

A row of stunned and horrified Malfoy ancestors shook their heads in utter disapproval as he passed them in the dimly lit hallway. Despite his lack of clothing the current Lord of the Manor held his arrogant demeanour. His long lustrous blonde hair, hung now dry and sleek about his bare shoulders. Shoulders that were firmly squared against them, a spine that was rigid, maintained his head at its customary haughty angle. His nostrils flaring, his grey eyes daring them to question him. He heard some hushed utterances, the word Mudblood drifting to his ears. He glanced a slow imperious look along the line of pale, disgusted looking faces.

“Another sound and you will all be banished to the attic, indefinitely.”

The row of appalled faces fell silent, resuming their stilted poses once more. Their varying shades of grey/blue eyes still clouded with condemnation.

Upbringing and breeding told Lucius, knocking was the gentlemanly thing to do. But this was his house, and part of him was just a bit peeved that she had not come to him.

 

The bedroom itself was empty, like his it was bathed in darkness, save the light from the fire and the small chink of light that emanated from the bathroom, the door slightly ajar. He saw her slim figure move in the adjacent room, his towel dropped to the floor and naked, Lucius slid between the soft, cool sheets of her bed.

Hermione was shocked enough to find Lucius in her bed when she exited the bathroom, but to find him sleeping peacefully was even more surprising.

Much as had been the case the previous morning, his blonde hair was fanned out on the pillow around him.  His long thick lashes even more visible in sleep. His upper body was naked, and spotting the discarded towel on the floor, she realised the rest of him was too. As before, one arm was resting on his stomach, whilst the other was thrown across, what was clearly _her side_ of the bed.  She smiled, noticing the sheet was once again draped diagonally over his hips, barely covering his lower body.  Her own body coming alive at the sight of him, hot wet heat pooling between her legs. Hermione quivered, excited that he had come to her. He was obviously very relaxed in _her bed._  For a few moments she just savoured the sight of the sleeping wizard……..her friend, her lover.

 It would be, no, it was, all too easy to get used to the gorgeous sight of him in her bed, waiting for her, wanting her.

The return to Hogwarts was less than a week away, and for the first time ever, Hermione not only dreaded the thought of returning to school but also the thought of her small empty bed.  She still had five days left here at the Manor and she was going to make the most of every last one. Especially if Lucius intended making a habit of this.

Hermione had planned on slipping into her cosy pyjamas, but like Lucius she simply dropped the towel she had wrapped around her, to the floor and slid between the sheets. In slumber his arm moved instinctively, allowing her to move closer to him. She was torn between leaving him to sleep peacefully or cuddling up to him.

The arms that curled around her, pulling her tightly to him, took the decision away. His gentle hands caressing her breasts possessively, his growing erection, pressing against her arse.

His mouth at her ear, his warm breath against her skin, his voice was soft, a little sleepy, and laced with that sexy velvet menace:

“What did I say about waking up with you, in whosever bed?”

Words died on Hermione’s lips, being replaced by a thrilled gasp, as shifting their positions, his body slid forcefully into hers.

“Perhaps I need to make myself clearer.” His husky voice was once more at her ear.

His fingers kneaded the downy flesh of her breasts, his thumbs brushing teasingly over the hardened nipples with assiduous precision.  Hermione moaned at his touch and the gentle upwards thrust of his body sheathed inside her. It was an unhurried, almost sleepy movement, encircled in the warmth of his strong arms. She moved back against him, hearing him groan, a long slow, deeply erotic sound against her ear.  Her own movements rhythmically in sync with his. There was no violent thrusting just a slow intense build, his hands stroking and caressing her with a deliberate sensuality. Her body stroking and caressing his arousal with her tight silky heat. 

Lucius hadn’t meant to drift off to sleep before Hermione returned to her bed. But the tedious call from the Ministry, along with the other events of the day, had left him feeling unusually tired. The fact he’d had more activity, both sexual and otherwise in the last few days than he’d had in the last year, of course had _nothing_ to do with his fatigue.

Lucius had felt the bed dip under her weight, gently rousing him, his eyes remaining closed. The light floral scent of her soap filling his nostrils, as her skin had brushed against his own, and his body had stirred appreciatively. His tired brain had envisioned simply pulling her into his arms, but his mutinous body had other ideas, his cock slowly swelling as she had moved against him. He could still wrap his arms around her, simply allowing the two of them to fall asleep as he tenderly touched her. But the feel of her silky flesh and pert nipples, hardened his already swelling flesh painfully. He’d allowed himself to slip into her welcoming heat, but much as he wanted her, much as his body needed her, he had to admit he simply did not have the energy for vigorous sex.

As she moved sensuously against him, her deliciously silky juices stroked his shaft with a gentle intensity that he fought to control. As always her body moved in perfect harmony with his own, moulding faultlessly to him. Even in this position, he filled her beautifully, her softness engulfing him completely. Lucius fought the somnolent state his body wanted to ebb into, as he blissfully enjoyed the fire that burned low his groin.  It was almost as if he was dreaming. Her rhythmic groans and melodic breathing arousing, and at the same time gently pulling him towards both the orgasm and the sleep his body so desperately craved. His fingers caressing her in a languorous almost trance like state, her muscles suddenly tightening around him in her own release, Lucius felt warmth and pleasure surge languidly through him, coming into her body in the same blissfully unhurried but overwhelmingly powerful climax.

 

 

The first morning that Hermione faced Draco, she felt a little embarrassed. Sleeping with his father and him supposedly not knowing felt very different to facing him, knowing he was fully aware that she had just left his bed, or on this occasion he had just left hers.

By the morning of the Masquerade Ball, she thought nothing of it, clearly Draco never had.  The younger Malfoy, was like an excited little boy, who spent most of the day clock watching.  Delighted when the time finally came that he could legitimately go and prepare for the evening’s festivities. 

Hermione had opted to get ready for the party in her own room, despite Lucius’ protestations. Telling him was too much of a distraction earned her a Malfoy sneer _and_ a raised eyebrow, she fled quickly knowing she was on dangerous ground.

Secretly Hermione was just as excited as Draco, she however kept her clockwatching to a minimum, but none the less, itching to get ready for the ball. She had tried her dress on a couple of times previously, it had fitted almost perfectly, needing hardly any adjustments on her part. It looked stunning, Lucius Malfoy did have exceptional taste. 

Hermione had soaked and relaxed in her tub, pampering herself with various potions and oils. Immerging from her bathroom sometime later to find a black leather box on her bed. Tied around it was the infamous tiny strand of green silk. She couldn’t help but smile as she tugged it free from the box.  Her brown eyes widening in awe as she opened it.  The black pearl and, what she assumed were real diamonds, lariat necklace with stud earrings sat on a bed of white velvet. They were breathtakingly beautiful and supremely elegant. The small earrings were almost identical in both size and shape, to the thirty five buttons which secured the delicate lace of her dress from midway down her back, to just below her spine where it became finely pleated silk.   The subtle jewellery looked exquisite against her flawless ivory skin, complementing the silver grey of her dress perfectly.

Inside the hinged lid was a neatly folded piece of parchment, Hermione unfolded it, the elegant script instantly recognisable. The words making her breath catch in her throat and her heart beat even faster.

_“This will look as striking around your beautiful throat, as you will on my arm.”_

Hermione hadn’t for a single moment considered she would be attending the ball on Lucius’ arm, her mouth suddenly going dry at the thought. She was his son’s friend, his guest. She was also his friend and his lover, but only three people knew that. To be the witch on Lucius Malfoy’s arm was something very different. Xena Perry’s words from the Christmas Eve party resonated in her ears. She didn’t want to be another in a string, and she hardly saw herself as glamorous.   The reflection in the mirror however telling a very different story.

Hermione had straightened her hair to within an inch of its life. It was pulled rather primly from her face, the severity of the style doing nothing do diminish her natural beauty. She had caught it in a loose bun at the back of her head, leaving her long elegant neck completely bare and accentuating her high, sharp cheek bones on which the beautifully crafted mask sat.

The glittering mask was itself a work of art. A silver filigree butterfly adorning one of the hornlike scallops at the top, had a dark green bejewelled body and antennae. Half of it was silver, the other a pastel shade of green, and they faded and melded into each other somewhere near the centre. Each side a myriad of convoluted swirls in the opposing colour. Both oval shaped eyelets were edged with glittering emerald green liner, giving it a cat like quality. Hermione used a rather complicated spell to give her usual honey brown eyes the illusion of being green, making her virtually unrecognisable.

Typical man she thought finally slipping her slender feet into the precariously high heeled sandals. But of course the extra height they gave her, together with the fanned train at the back of the dress were just a hairs breath from perfection.  The descent of the Malfoy staircase would be another matter entirely, but adding a dash of the palest pink lip gloss, Hermione left her room and headed in that direction.  

The last time she had been this dressed up for a party for any kind, was the Yule Ball at Hogwarts during the TriWizard Tournament. That felt like a lifetime ago now. On the outside Hermione Granger looked every inch the sophisticated and poised young woman, but the excitement and exhilaration that raced inside her body was equal to that of a fourteen year old girl.  A small smile lifting her mouth as she remembered how daunted she had been descending the stone staircase at Hogwarts to accompany Victor Krum to the ball. That was nothing compared to the trepidation she now felt, knowing it would Lucius Malfoy offering her his arm this time.

Hermione elegantly lifted her dress to ease her descent of yet another imposing staircase, feeling the short but flowing silver train slithering down the heavily carpeted stairs behind her. Its silken sensuous feel giving her a sudden and much need boost of confidence. She noticed several masks turn in her direction and various sets of eyes fall upon her as she continued her careful, but elegant descent.

Lucius had his back to the staircase, and despite it being a masked ball, as the host, he was _almost_ immediately recognisable. His signature blonde hair cascading freely about his back, stark in contrast against the robes he wore, and of course his ever present serpent headed cane, were a bit of a giveaway.   He turned slightly. Hermione gasped, stopping in her tracks, a shiver racing down her bare spine, a small flurry of fear summersaulting in her stomach. The front of his platinum hair was jet black, hanging long and equally sleekly about his face, framing the uncovered, lower part, and encircling the silver and black mask that concealed the upper. Its markings and his general appearance reminding her of the threatening, despicable man, who she and her friends had encountered in the Department of Mysteries.

His dark, immaculately tailored robes falling just shy of the floor, giving him a very sinister appearance. His aristocratic and haughty demeanour commanding a room already thronging with guests, several of whom, she could recognise quite easily, even masked.

She had been instinctively drawn to Lucius, as would it appear, was he to her. The dark wizard suddenly looking in her direction. Even at this distance, she could see the burning intensity in his eyes, their greyness and passion enhanced by the mask he wore.  Excusing himself from his guests, and as he had done at the Christmas Eve drinks, he held out his hand, facilitating her final few steps.

“You look breath-taking my dear. Simply beautiful.” His words for her ears only, as he bowed his head, lifting her hand to his lips and brushing them gently and unhurriedly to it.

Heat pervading her body, Hermione flushed as always, under his unashamed appraisal, flattering words and unabashed gesture.  She found herself totally transfixed and more than a little intimidated by his striking and decidedly imposing appearance. The fearsome mask restoring the darkness that was exclusively, Lucius Malfoy. The dark core that belonged to the Lucius Malfoy she once knew, now only serving to excite her further.  The shiver that had raced down her spine and the flutter of fear that summersaulted in her stomach, had met up and transformed into something much more potent, desire. His mere presence overwhelming and intoxicating, his exotic and heady scent invading her nostrils and filling her senses as she strove to speak. Some invisible force pulling her yet closer to him.

“All thanks to you.” She managed, toying with the small pearl at her throat. Her unusually green eyes sparkling as they met his, now that luscious grey blue shade. “You have exquisite taste Lucius.”

“Don’t I just.” He smirked, running his forefinger slowly up her bare arm. His touch, feather light, but searing her soft skin with scorching heat.

There was that rich, velvety tone again, wrapped in dark menace, it made the hairs of the back of Hermione’s neck prickle in delight, and even the briefest of touches making other areas, tingle with the same, but decidedly more intimate delight.

“You look, devilishly handsome yourself.”

Even under his mask, Hermione could tell he had raised his eyebrow at her. “An interesting choice of words my dear.”

Hermione, pale pink lips quirked at him, she licked them a tad provocatively:

“Appropriately well chosen, I think”.  Those now green eyes twinkling with practically feline glee.

“Hmm, I am beginning to realise that green is a very becoming colour on my Brave Little Gryffindor. It suits you rather too well.”

His beautiful mouth, given a hint of cruelty by the addition of the mask, curved appreciatively at the knowledge.

Hermione leant forward, for his ears only: “I am clearly under the influence of a very cunning and Sexy Slytherin.”

Lucius struggled to retain his composure at her husky voice, her sweet breath against his hair, her lips tantalisingly close to his ear. She wasn’t touching him, but his entire body was acutely aware of her. Even with her identity so well hidden, she outshone every other woman at the ball.

Lucius had to admit she had done an excellent job of concealing who she really was, especially with those feline like green eyes. He himself might not have recognised her, had he not quite literally dressed her from head to toe. A little part of him was thrilled, whilst another part of him was a little disappointed he could not flaunt the beautiful Hermione Granger, but then that was the idea of a masquerade ball.

He couldn’t help but wonder mischievously how many people would realise who she was. The first test was heading their way as the thought wandered through his mind………


	22. "Would You Like To Dance?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So who will recognise whom at the ball and of course who will dance with whom.
> 
> I apologise in advance for a little whim that overtook me midway through this chapter...an image and a piece of music just popped into my head and I couldn't resist. Don't judge me too harshly :-) ENJOY...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cannot believe we are at Chapter 22. Thank you for those of you are still with me and enjoying this tale. Usual standing apologies for errors of any kind.

 

 

Hermione was catapulted back almost 10 years in years in time. Once more to her first encounter with the formidable Dark Wizard in Flourish and Blotts. But this time it was the voice addressing the host, almost as recognisable to her as Lucius’, which put her there.

“Lucius.” The tone was a little cool, but not as cold as it had been that day all those years ago.

“Well, well, well, Arthur, so glad you could make it.”

Lucius also recognised many, if not all of his masked guests.  The three people standing in front of him were clearly no exception. But despite their ornate facial coverings, their distinctive shapes and sizes, not to mention three mops of highly identifiable red hair, belonging to Arthur Weasley, his wife Molly and their youngest son Ronald, was a dead give away

Hermione turned fully, finding Lucius arm loosely but possessively caught around her waist. Her body instinctively moving into him. Her heart pounding wildly in her chest, her breathing almost ceasing and her mouth as dry as the desert. She looked at the small gathering of Weasley’s before her, waiting for the inevitable.

“It was nice of you to invite us.” Molly was saying warmly, the warmth not quite reaching her bright brown eyes as they drifted over Hermione, not a hint of recognition in them.

“We only arrived back last night.” Arthur Weasley was explaining conversationally. “But Molly insisted that we come, didn’t you dear?”

Molly Weasley’s eyes had once more drifted to Hermione. She felt Lucius fingers squeezing her gently, as they waited for the Weasley matriarch to speak.

“I am never one to miss a good party and I am sure, Lucius throws a very good party.”

Their host nodded his head in acknowledgement of her words. 

“Please feel free to wander around and find out. And I think Mr Weasley junior might find some people he knows dotted around the place, if he can make them out.”

Hermione felt Lucius’ thumb brush against her hip, she knew his grey eyes would be twinkling roguishly and there would be a small smirk twitching his lips. She kept her own green eyes, looking firmly ahead, not daring to look at him.

Ronald Weasley thanked his host politely, all be it through rather gritted teeth, Hermione noted. Clearly he did not want to be here and had no doubt been dragged along, presumably by a curious Molly, insisting that he might meet someone nice. To which she could hear him replying, how was he going to meet someone nice at a Malfoy party?

She remained silent at Lucius side, terrified if she spoke, her voice would give her away.

“Father, He….Hello Weasley.” Draco stopped himself just short of calling Hermione by her given name, recovering quickly from his faux pas. He too recognising the three redheads.

Hermione felt Lucius’ grip on her tighten, as his son realised to whom his father was speaking. Obviously realising that Hermione, might prefer to remain anonymous to some of the assembled guests. 

Molly was still studying Hermione intently, a couple of times Hermione had noticed her glance fall to where Lucius arm encircled her waist and the jewel at her throat.

About to move on. Molly suddenly stopped and addressed Hermione. Normally the two were roughly the same height, but in her four inch heels, Hermione rather towered over Ron’s mother.

“I have to say this my dear.” Molly glanced at Lucius a hint of disapproval lighting her eyes. “You look very …. striking.”

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, smiling fleetingly, and nervously about to speak her thanks when something or someone distracted the older witch and she and her family left Hermione alone with the Malfoy’s.

“Well it’s not often I would agree with a Weasley.” Draco said looking at Hermione and casting a careful eye around him. “But Mrs Weaslebee does have a point. I don’t think I’d a known it was you unless I’d seen you unwrap the mask and …… you’re eyes are green. Wow that’s hot.”

Lucius cleared his throat next to Hermione, reminding his son of his presence.

Unlike his father’s mask, Draco’s wasn’t rounded to his face. It sat like Hermione’s, across his nose, covering the top of his cheeks, eyes and forehead. Also like Hermione’s it had a hornlike festoon, his however was much taller and it swirled down the side of his face. Sheathing him in black and gold. He had slicked his blonde hair to his head and if Hermione wasn’t very much mistaken it was also a few shades darker, matching the gold of the mask.  In contrast with the Christmas Eve party, like his father Draco wore traditional robes, a long dark cloak completing his also rather sinister appearance.  The younger Malfoy was more difficult to recognise than his father.

Just like his father, Hermione could see Draco’s eyes, sparkling in wicked amusement, a smirk forming on his thin lips.

“And since when did Lucius Malfoy object to someone complimenting him for having a hot woman on his arm.

Hermione noticed the look between father and son. Even behind the mask she expected to see a little flicker of annoyance from Lucius at his son’s cheeky words, but for the first time she saw genuine affection between the two men, and for the first time that was precisely how Hermione saw them both.

Lucius was not looking indulgently at his son, or Draco being in awe of his father, but genuine, all be it amused affection. That strange little frisson of delight was back, celebrating another small victory.

“I think you and I should go and dance Draco, before you push your luck too far.” Hermione switched Malfoy arms.

Even with only half of his face visible the horror on Draco’s face was evident. 

“What a good idea.” His father drawled. Not at all perturbed at allowing his son to have the first dance of the evening with Hermione.

“Show _our guest_ , what extracurricular activities pureblood children are forced to partake in.”

Lucius couldn’t hide the amusement from his voice or the smile from his lips, as the portion of his son’s face he could see, flushed wildly.

Hermione didn’t miss Lucius not using her name, referring to her as _our guest,_ clearly enjoying the intrigue. Hermione was also intrigued at what these extracurricular activities were. She could only assume that at some point he had been instructed in dance, the thought of Draco Malfoy waltzing or foxtrotting around a dancefloor was just too much. She smiled sweetly at him, and leaving his father to greet some more guests she all but dragged him off in the direction, of where the rugs had been removed  to make a temporary dancefloor.

“Dance and duelling.” Confessed Draco as he took Hermione, very properly in his arms and began to move rather skilfully around the dancefloor.

“They were the two things my father insisted I learn how to do with the proficiency befitting a pureblood wizard. I am really not sure I can ever forgive him for making me learn to dance.”

Hermione laughed out loud as he twirled her around the floor with the dexterity and surprising grace of a professional.

“Well I promise not to tell anyone Ferret, but you are really very good.”

“You aren’t so bad yourself. Where did you learn to dance?”

“Well I did have lessons as a child, but Professor McGonagall taught the whole of Gryffindor to dance, or should I say, she tried to teach the whole of Gryffindor to dance, the year of the TriWzard Tournament. I can see her face now as she said.” Hermione attempted her best Minerva McGonagall impersonation.

“The house of Godric Gryffindor had been respected by the wizarding world for centuries and she didn’t want us besmirching that good name by behaving like a babbling, bumbling band of baboons, because we couldn’t dance. So with Ron as her partner she proceeded to give us dance lessons.

“No! Oh I would have paid good galleons to have seen that.”

Draco was still chuckling as they continued to dance. Lucius had pulled out all of the stops for the ball, the Manor was beautifully decorated and the music for the evening was being provided by proper musicians.

“It didn’t take my father long to find himself in the arms of another woman.” Draco hissed against Hermione’s ear as they moved with the other dancers.

Immediately feeling her tense in his arms, he suddenly felt a little shamefaced at his teasing, spinning her around, as his father escorted the aforementioned dance mistress extraordinaire of Gryffindor, Minerva McGonagall onto the floor. Draco had easily spotted his Headmistress, clad in her green dress robes. Her mask in the distinctive McGonagall tartan, matching the trim on the familiar, jauntily angled hat she wore.

Hermione visibly relaxing. Like Draco, she easily recognised her former head of house, noting that even almost 6 years later, the older witch still cut an elegant and adept figure on the floor. As did her partner.   Hermione’s eyes once again fixed on the imposing figure of Lucius Malfoy. Grinning like a silly schoolgirl, as he too, showed off his considerable prowess on the dancefloor. Draco had obviously inherited his father’s lightness of foot. 

As Draco guided Hermione back to where his father was now talking animatedly to the rather flushed Hogwarts Headmistress, they were intercepted by another heavily masked, but easily recognisable figure. Not that Severus Snape had done much to conceal his identity. In fact the only addition to his habitual black robes was the rather odious mask which obscured his sharp pale face. Like the Professor himself, the oddly, ornate mask had a long hooked nose, adding to its loathsome look. With his long black hair, it gave the already intimidating, Defence Against The Dark Arts Master a very creepy appearance, which sent a shiver through Hermione, one which Draco obviously felt, whispering to Hermione.

“Troll bogies.”

As their stern faced, Professor drew level with them. He once more felt Hermione shake against him, this time it was from the laughter she was trying to repress.

The Head of Slytherin House was obviously not fooled for a moment by the masks and magical enchantments used by either of his students. Addressing them both in his clipped tones.

“Good evening Mister Malfoy, your father still throws as exceptional party. Miss Granger you look charming.”

It was Draco who responded: “I am sure he will delighted you think so Sir.”

With Hermione still clutching his arm firmly, the younger wizard made to move past his father’s old friend.

“You and Miss Granger certainly made a very fetching couple out on the dance floor. I was wondering Miss Granger, if you might do your old Professor the honour of a dance?”

Hermione’s fingers tightened around Draco’s arm. Not only was she loath to dance with Snape, she was also very conscious of the repeated use of her name, especially with the Weasley’s around.

She hadn’t intended to conceal her identity from anyone. She simply hadn’t expected them to be there in all honesty. Lucius hadn’t told her or Draco the names of any of the guests, they had both just assumed it would be a very similar gathering to that of Christmas Eve. They would all be just more dressed up and of course masked. Changing her appearance had been a bit of fun initially, something different, that was all. Other than the Malfoy’s, Hermione had surmised she would know only the same four or so people from Christmas Eve.  The arrival of Minerva McGonagall had been a welcome addition, even if she hadn’t yet had a chance to speak to her Headmistress.  The arrival of the three Weasley’s had however caused a little unease, but when none of them had recognised her she’d breathed an amused, inner sigh of relief. Especially after seeing how Molly had watched Lucius’s hand curl so possessively around her.

She had no reason to reveal herself, the fact that she hadn’t at the time, of course now made things all the more difficult. Snape’s incessant use of her name, put her on her guard. No matter how little she wanted to dance with him, after their last encounter, she thought it might be a prudent move.

A saccharine sweet smile pinned on her glossy pink lips, she released a somewhat shocked Draco’s arm.

“I would be delighted Professor Snape, although I have to warn you, I am not as proficient as Draco.”

“Do not sell yourself short Miss Granger. As always you looked very accomplished. I am sure we can manage a turn or two without treading on each other’s toes.”

Hermione took the black, heavily robed arm of the older wizard, once more moving back to the makeshift dance floor. Feeling more than a little uncomfortable as he took her in his clasp, but managing to keep him mercifully, at arm’s length.

“I assume Miss Granger that I am safe in doing this, and I will not be flung against another wall or perhaps find some other misfortune befalling my person.”

Hermione was sorely tempted to tell her mordant Professor that as long as he didn’t touch anything that he shouldn’t, he would be just fine. But as she watched Draco re-join Minerva McGonagall and his father, she couldn’t actually guarantee that this would be the case.

Even from behind, what resembled half of a Death eater mask, and at this distance, Hermione could feel Lucius Malfoy’s steely grey gaze upon her. She also noticed him switch his cane from his right hand, to his dominant left. A strange sense of reassurance flowing through her body at the gesture.

“You are quite safe Professor Snape.”

He nodded curtly, but did not seem entirely convinced. Glancing once more in the direction of Lucius, she could hardly blame him.

 

“You appear to be a regular guest here at the Manor Miss Granger.” The beady eyed man suggested snidely, as he guided Hermione around the floor. His tone as always steeped in more than a little acerbity.

So Severus Snape was on a fishing expedition. Hermione couldn’t help but find the notion amusing. The head of Slytherin House was no gossip, but he was nosey and hated to think that he was missing out on something. Perhaps giving him _some_ of the answers he undoubtedly craved might ward the man off.

“I would hardly call two festive parties regular, Professor. But I am Draco’s guest for the holidays.” She volunteered.

“My friends were all away and, well Draco and I have become close this term, so he invited me to spend Christmas and New Year with him, and of course his father.”

Hermione chose he words very carefully, ensuring that Snape knew she was here at Draco’s behest. He had seen the two school friends dancing together, he would hopefully put two and two together and come up with a resounding five. It would be easily enough to mislead him down that path.

She was in no way ashamed of her friendship with his father, but was not prepared to discuss it with the likes of Severus Snape.

From beneath her own mask she glanced at the cold eyed man, most of his face was obscured by the chilling mask he wore, but she saw a sneer curl his thin, dry lips.

“I have taught the Malfoy boy for as many years as you Miss Granger. I am fully aware of his skills and capabilities and the lack thereof. The magic at your throat last week, was well beyond those.”

Hermione stiffened yet further in Snape’s arms, as he once again twirled her around the floor. He was already far too close for comfort, both in word and in deed. Feeling his fingers tighten around her hand and her waist as he held her, heightened her sense of unease.

“His father however is more than proficient at conjuring such a complicated charm.”

Hermione bristled at his slowly delivered words, their slight against Draco, and his inference.

“I think perhaps Professor Snape, you underestimate Draco’s abilities.”

The Defence Against the Dark Arts Master laughed, a hollow, cynical sound which added to Hermione’s mounting discomfort.

“I think perhaps Miss Granger _you_ underestimate my intelligence.” His emotionless black eyes studying her intently from behind his mask.

“And I think perhaps Severus,”

The voice from behind Hermione was low, cold and quietly ominous. Over the music, Snape’s voice and the general noise of the ball, she had not heard Lucius approach.

Snape, so intent was he in baiting the young witch, had, it would seem, not seen his old friend’s advance either.

 “ _You_ underestimate _my_ patience.”

Lucius cut a dark imposing figure as he stood looking at Hermione and Snape. The music appropriately and all too conveniently fading as he spoke.

“Hermione.” Lucius extended his hand towards her. “I believe that this dance is mine.”

Thankfully disengaging herself from a visibly irked Professor, Hermione went willingly into the arms of Lucius Malfoy. Whilst having not been hurled against a wall by a piece of charmed silk. She felt sure, Severus Snape was equally as angry at Lucius’ direct intervention, even if it had perhaps confirmed any suspicions he had about her and Draco’s father.

Finding herself in anyone’s arms but Severus Snape’s would have been preferable, but finding the strong arms of Lucius Malfoy encircling her, almost protectively was nothing short of blissful. She savoured the familiar warmth of his powerful body and the almost soothing scent of him. Her own body relaxing into him, while at the same time keenly aware of every fibre of him.

Lucius had for his part, interceded as the rather large green eyed monster of jealousy appeared at his shoulder.  Whilst their conversation in the library had left him in no doubt as to Hermione’s feelings for her Professor, the fingers of suspicion tickled his spine as to his old friend’s intentions. Anger beginning to bubble away like a freshly brewing potion. Noticing Snape’s grip tighten as he moved around the floor with Hermione, how he pulled her closer, Lucius decided enough was enough. Overhearing the last part of their conversation, he realised he was right to have rescued Hermione from Severus Snape’s grasp.  

Lucius Malfoy wasn’t a man known for dreamy notions, or flights of fancy, but in the days leading up to the ball, he had envisaged this moment over and over again in his mind’s eye. Even earlier on in the day, when he had been checking that everything was ready, and that the house elves had removed the rugs from the ballroom floor. He had pictured this very scene, the beautiful young woman in his arms, moving slowly around the floor.  Desire and passion were racing through his veins, his thoughts mere moments from finally becoming reality.

In his peripheral vision, Lucius noticed various eyes fall on them. Part of him wishing that it wasn’t a masquerade ball and that everyone in the room knew it was Hermione Granger in his arms. The other part of him relishing the fact that they didn’t know who she was.

The one thing that he hadn’t imagined in his head was the impromptu change of music. The slow flowing tempo of the music altering rather dramatically, to something more reminiscent of a tango.  On the spur of the moment, he pulled Hermione sharply against his hip as the staccato, melodramatic tones rose.

Hermione had smiled inwardly thinking how apt the shift in music was.  As she felt Lucius hands tighten around her and him pull her forcefully against him, she realised he’d had a similar thought. The powerful emotions of the tango perfectly lending themselves to the scene.  Her smile vanishing, Hermione swallowed hard, realisation dawning. She had just about managed to keep up with his son’s accomplished movements around the floor. From what Draco had said and from watching Lucius dance briefly with the Hogwarts Headmistress, Hermione would need more than the few lesson’s she’d had as a child and Minerva McGonagall’s brief tutelage to match his father.

Getting her head around the fact, that the former Death Eater was very light on his feet, and could very much hold his own in the dance stakes was enough to contend with. The fact that she was in his arms, and it would appear about to be tangoed around the room was more terrifying than being whirled around by the greasy, but relatively inexpert Professor Snape.

She took a surreptitious look at Lucius from beneath her mask, in her heels…… Merlin! She had forgotten about the four inch heels. As if trying to remember some long since forgotten dance steps, and being held by such a formidable man, amidst a room full of people, was not enough to deal with. There was also had those spindly high heels.  This had disaster written all over it. That surreptitious glance at Lucius from beneath her mask, revealed a wicked glint in his shining grey eyes and a curving of his mouth that made Hermione want to brush her lips to it.  In those heels, she was still a few inches shorter than Lucius. _That side_ of Hermione was in bold, party mode. She could hear both her childhood dance teacher and McGonagall’s instructions clearly in her head. Immediately straightening her spine and lifting her head, bringing her lips ever closer to his.

Despite his bravado, Lucius had intended to slacken his hold on Hermione, and simply guide her around the floor, as both his son and Snape had done. But as he sensed her posture change, saw the defiance flicker in her fascinating green eyes, and felt her breath just short of his lips, he knew his Brave Little Gryffindor was rising to the challenge. Passion and Desire mixed with that other little feeling which fluttered in his stomach once more, had Lucius tightening his grip and pulling her hard against him.

“Would you like to dance?” He asked, his lips almost touching hers.

 

To facilitate both her dance with Draco and Professor Snape, Hermione had gathered the train of her dress in her one of her hands. The last thing she needed was a heel getting caught in the long silken fabric, a brief incantation saw the dress and train shorten to a safe length.

“Yes.” She whispered, resisting the overwhelming urge to feel his lips against hers.

Whether she remembered the steps or not, Hermione didn’t care, Lucius would guide her. All she could think of at this moment in time was him and the music.

Like many little girls she had always imagined waltzing at a ball, wearing a beautiful dress, in the arms of handsome man. The Hogwarts Yule Ball had come close to fulfilling that dream. She had never thought for one minute she would get another chance. Dancing a tango with a former Death Eater at Malfoy Manor, should be about as far removed from her girlish daydreams as was possible. But in reality it was as near to perfect as she could imagine.

The roomful of people vanished, as if some powerful charm had been cast. Hermione herself was under an equally powerful spell, but she knew, as always, there was no actual magic involved. Just the enchanting sensation of Lucius’ warm hand on the bare flesh of her back. And the bewitching feel of his lean body as it touched hers. Taking her in the crook of his arm Lucius moved sharply forward, with her hand clasping his upper arm, and in perfect synchronicity Hermione moved with him. Her upper body keeping well away from his, their tight connection from hip to thigh making concentration even harder, her body, already so acutely aware of him.

She strove to remember everything she had been taught, all be it very little, about the passionate Latin American dance. The music and the man virtually carrying her around the floor. But she found herself loving every minute of it, losing herself completely in both.

It wasn’t a full blown overly theatrical tango, but it was enough to move couples on the floor and draw some interested onlookers, all three Weasley amongst them.  

By the time the music ended, Hermione was more than a little breathless and as ever rather flushed. From the dance, or the sensual proximity to Lucius, she wasn’t entirely sure. With his hand still resting on her back, Lucius steered them towards his somewhat surprised son, and the Hogwarts headmistress. Professor McGonagall was rubbing her hands together gleefully.

“You made a very striking couple.” She said her wily green eyes glittering like a cat, as they moved from her pupil to the chair of the school governors.

“It would appear that you absorbed more than just transfiguration from my classes.”

Still a little breathless Hermione laughed out loud. “Thank Merlin, you are such a good teacher Professor.”

The music had ceased momentarily and Hermione’s happy tinkling laughter drifted through the air. Her green eyes, straightened hair and mask might have hidden her identity, but Ronald Weasley knew the sound of that laughter only too well. He was horrified to discover it came from the glamourous young woman, whom Lucius Malfoy had his arm wrapped around.

 


	23. New Year's Eve Fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the New Year fast approaches, but of course first we have some fireworks.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual housekeeping apologies and thanks for some truly lovely reviews. Enjoy.....

 

A tray of sparkling champagne in tall crystal flutes stopped beside the quartet, Lucius took two of the delicate glasses, offering one to Hermione, who took it and a large sip, all too thankfully. The other he offered to Professor McGonagall, whose nose wrinkled beneath her tartan mask.

“Whisky, Minerva?” Lucius offered, well humouredly.

“The proper stuff.” She asked her accent thickening at the prospect.

Masked, Lucius’ body language exuded the effrontery his face could not display.

“As if I would offer you anything else.” His lips curled in an affectionate smile at the older witch.

“If you will excuse me.” Draco suddenly said, grabbing the remaining two glasses from the floating tray. “I need to go and say hello to someone.”

Three sets of eyes watched as the younger Malfoy, weaved his way across the room, carefully clutching the crystal flutes.  Lucius and Hermione exchanging knowing glances, as both of their eyes fell upon the tall, elegant and very distinctive figure of the lately arrived Nemessia Fellows.

The Hogwarts headmistress sharp green eyes, had however returned to the two people who remained with her. Noticing that Lucius Malfoy’s arm lingered firmly around Hermione’s slender waist.

“So about this whisky Lucius.”

It was Hermione who interceded, noticing the arrival of another highly recognisable guest.

“Why don’t I get Professor McGonagall that whisky and you take care of the Kingsley Shacklebolt?” Hermione indicated the Minister for Magic, who was talking to Nemessia Fellows and no doubt a rather irked Draco.

Lucius looked between the two women, sensing that Hermione was keen to talk to her headmistress, but realising that she was also quite right, he should take care of the Minister. 

“Minerva, I shall leave you in the capable hands of Miss Granger.”

With that he bowed his head politely and moved elegantly across the room to join his son.

“Well after all of that exertion, how about we sit down and enjoy our drinks Professor?”

 “An excellent idea.”

Lucius liked a Firewhiskey, but Hermione knew the whisky he kept in his study, was, as he called it, the good stuff.

Several of the rooms at the Manor, including the bedrooms and Lucius’ study had been warded against unwelcome intruders for the duration of the party.  Hermione easily moved through the one guarding his study, taking Minerva McGonagall with her.

She poured a generous snifter into one if the heavy tumblers and handed it to her headmistress, who was now seated quite comfortably in one of the chairs in front of the roaring fire. Hermione sat in the chair opposite, Lucius’s chair as she thought of it. Blissfully kicking of her heels and placing her feet on the footstall, she took another tip of the perfectly chilled champagne.

With a flick of her hand Minerva McGonagall discarded her tartan mask. Curling her wrinkled fingers around the glass, she raised it to her nose enjoying the strong bouquet of the expensive whisky, before allowing herself a hefty swig.

“You seem very much at home here.” The canny Scot said over the rim of her glass, her green eyes twinkling as she spoke.

McGonagall was no fool, she’d been watching Hermione since she’d arrived and she was never one to pussyfoot around. Hermione was still however a little reticent, even with Minerva McGonagall to reveal too much of her friendship with Lucius Malfoy.

“Draco, and his father have made me feel very much that way.” Hermione avoided calling Lucius by his given name, knowing this would reveal too much, to the wise older woman.

Never one to mince her words the Hogwarts Headmistress got straight to the point.

“I might be old my dear girl, but I am not blind. I’ve seen that twinkle in a man’s eyes before, even behind a mask, it cannot be hidden, and I’ve been lucky enough to have that radiant bloom you wear so beautifully, at least once.”

Hermione blushed at McGonagall’s’ admittance and observations. She had often seen that twinkle in Lucius’ grey eyes, but never imagined it anything more than lust, or maybe fondness.  She had never thought of herself showing any outward signs of her growing affection for him.

The older witch took another long savouring sip of her whisky, smiling broadly and meaningfully at Hermione.

Hermione knew that look only too well.

“That first day you came back to Hogwarts, we met in my office for tea. Lucius Malfoy was there.”

How could Hermione forget? She nodded briefly at the other woman, not trusting herself to speak.

“The two of you exchanged not half a dozen words, but I needed the Sword of Gryffindor to cut the tension that crackled between the two of you. I could practically see the sparks, and it had nothing to do with old animosities either. I might be a little past my prime, but I am still a woman.”

Hermione’s faced flushed harder beneath her mask. First Draco, now McGonagall and not forgetting Snape and his wheedling and inferences.

“You don’t have to answer this question Hermione. I am not your mother and it’s really none of my business.”

Hermione knew this was something serious, she couldn’t ever recall Minerva McGonagall calling her anything other than Miss Granger. She inclined her head, curious for her to continue.

“Are you in love with Lucius Malfoy?”

Minerva McGonagall had seen her them together on what, three very brief occasions, yet there it was the silent, unspoken and unanswered question that had been subconsciously wandering through Hermione’s mind for weeks now. Asked with her usual forthright directness and maternal concern. By the woman Hermione had known since she was eleven years old. A woman she held in the highest esteem and a woman to whom Hermione could not lie.

Her response was equally as forthright and direct. It was also very honest and simple: “Yes”

 

Eavesdropping, where the door had been left slightly ajar, on his ex-girlfriend and former Head of House, Ronald Weasley struggled to contain a whole number of emotions, among the front runners were, incredulity, revulsion and anger. He had told his mother no good would come of returning to this house.

He had seen her a couple of weeks ago, they had exchanged Christmas gifts and she was fine. Ron thought of it as if Hermione had some kind of terminal ailment. Malfoy must have her under some sort of enchantment, how could she possibly think she was in love with this man of all people? Just the thought made him feel sick to his stomach.

“Lost are you Weasley, easy done in a house this size.”

That mass of red hair was like a flashing neon sign, with his name etched in it.  Draco sauntered up behind Ronald Weasley. Years may have passed, and things may have changed, but he still felt that flicker of animosity when it came to the youngest Weasley son. Finding him loitering outside his father’s study added fuel to that already simmering fire.

The sound of two female voices drifted to Draco’s ears, he was too far away to hear what they were saying, but he recognised them nonetheless. Behind his black and gold mask, Draco’s pale blue eyes narrowed. They were as cold and piercing as his father’s. The same height, if not taller than the elder Malfoy, he held himself with that same authoritative and condescending air, as if he had a nasty smell under his pureblood nose.

“Your father……..”

Draco noticed Weasley spat the words contemptuously

“Said that there were some people here I knew, if I could spot them. I thought I saw and old friend, but I was wrong.”

The sour tone of Weasley’s voice told Draco that he had recognised an old friend, and that old friend was Hermione. He could hardly object to the fact that she was here, he was here, albeit with his family. So she had danced with his father, she’d danced with him, Merlin, she’d even danced with Snape, surely he couldn’t object to all of her dance partners. Clearly something else was rattling Weasley’s wand. Draco wondered just how long he had been listening to the two women talking in his father’s study and just what he had heard.

The door behind him opened fully and the two women immerged.  Hermione looked anxiously between Draco and Ron, she knew them both too well, and sensed something was wrong. 

It would appear that Minerva McGonagall recognised the signs all too well also. “Mister Weasley, I’d recognise that hair anywhere.” 

The older witch took him by the arm: “Let’s see if you dancing has improved.”

She winked at Hermione as she led a rather dumbstruck Ronald Weasley off, back in the direction of the ballroom.

“What were you and McGonagall talking about?” Draco asked without preamble, moving to Hermione’s side.

Her face practically burned at Draco’s question, the heat spreading from her cheeks down across her chest.

“Yeah I thought as much.” Draco said not missing the reddening of her skin. “Well whatever you said, Weasley knows who you are, and I think he overheard your conversation.”

“He didn’t say anything to you?” Hermione asked cautiously.

Draco shook his head. “Nope, other than that he thought he’d recognised a friend but was wrong. It was the way he said it, like he did recognise you, but you weren’t his friend……”His voice trailed off.

That sounded like Ronald Weasley, thought Hermione, a typical childish reaction. Of course he would have recognised her voice, her laughter, he might be a little dense sometimes, but he wasn’t that stupid.

“Well McGonagall has him in her clutches for now, I think she realised something was up. Does it matter if Weaslebee overheard your conversation?”

Hermione looked at Draco, he was right of course.

“Truthfully it doesn’t matter.  I don’t care that he knows about your father and I………”

Other than what Ron had actually overheard, something else suddenly occurred to Hermione. Whilst Draco didn’t care what went on behind the closed doors of Malfoy Manor, he might not be so keen for Ronald Weasley to be spreading gossip outside.

“Do you mind that he knows?” She asked watching Draco intently.

His short burst of laughter was not what she had been expecting at all.

“Why should I? I mind how he found out, eavesdropping little git, and I mind that it is, yours and my father’s business to share as you want. But honestly Granger that’s all I mind.  I thought you knew that.”

Hermione felt a little shamefaced that she had doubted Draco, but she didn’t want to knowingly hurt him, the same way really she wouldn’t have knowingly hurt Ron. She guessed that would teach him to listen at keyholes.

“So he knows that there is something going on with you and my father, is anyone really go to give a damn? It’s hardly earth shattering news. Although it might sell a few more copies of the Daily Prophet.”

Hermione glared at her friend, her green eyes glittering. “Oh thanks for that. I really can do without being splattered all over that rag. Rita Skeeter would have a field day.” She sighed resignedly.  “Perhaps I am just overreacting.”

“Exactly!  You are both adults, like I said whose gonna give a toss, and to be honest Granger, I don’t think my father cares who knows.  The way he was looking at you and dancing with you tonight.” Draco shrugged his shoulders.

Hermione had to smile at the irony of the situation, who would have thought it would be Draco Malfoy coming to her defence, trying to make her see reason. Being so accepting of her, of her relationship with his father. She also knew he was right about his father.  Lucius hadn’t been worried about his son finding out, why on earth would he give anyone else a second thought.

“He has nothing to gain by telling anyone. And let’s face it Granger, Weasley is hardly stupid enough to confront my father.”

Hermione’s wide green eyes met Draco’s questioning blue.

“Shit Ferret, he is exactly stupid enough to do that. He doesn’t think about anything, he just reacts.”

Hermione was again, surprised to hear the sound of Draco’s laughter.

“Well if he is planning on confronting my father, I don’t want to miss that. Come on.”

Hermione found herself grabbed by the hand and dragged off in the direction Ron had headed previously.  Her heart was in her mouth, whilst she wasn’t happy with Ron, she really didn’t want anything to happen to him, and at the hands of a riled Lucius Malfoy, quite literally anything was possible. 

She also cringed at the thought of him making a scene, making a fool of himself, and of her in front of a room full of, some quite distinguished and notable guests.

Hermione and Draco were about to re-enter the ballroom when they heard someone call out.

“Malfoy.” In one word alone, the address was hostile, cold and angry.

Draco turned automatically at the sound of his name.  Realising that his father had exited the ballroom and was heading towards the library, Ronald Weasley determinedly shouting after him.

Lucius stopped, his long elegant robes swirling about him as he turned slowly towards the young man calling his name.

“Is there something I can help you with Mr Weasley?”

Hermione could hear the emotionless, arrogant tone in Lucius’s voice. With his darkened hair and mask, he looked quiet chilling, she had to admire Ron’s courage.  She gripped Draco’s hand tightly as they moved back into the shadowed corridor, watching as Ron approached Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione recalled the first time Ron confronted a Malfoy over her. Only on that occasion it had been Draco, it hadn’t ended well. A spell from his damaged wand backfiring on him, and making him throw up slugs for hours.  She was certain that if Ron upset Lucius Malfoy or tried to fire a spell at him, even with an undamaged wand, he would suffer a lot worse than puking up a few slimy gastropods for the next few hours.

Squaring his shoulders, he moved closer to the dark wizard.

“What have you done to Hermione, you bastard?” He blurted, despite the language, his voice sounded almost childlike in his demand.

Hermione saw Lucius’ mouth twitch, almost as if he were holding back a smile. She doubted he felt threatened in anyway by Ron, and could imagine the path his mind had taken at the question the younger wizard had posed.

“I don’t think he wants to know!” Whispered Draco, clearly enjoying himself enormously.

There was that like father like son again, she thought, shushing Draco and smacking him with her free hand.

“I do not see what business that is of yours.”

Lucius was exceedingly polite to the accusatory Weasley, but even from their poor vantage point Hermione noticed his fingers grasp the head of his cane. Both Draco and Hermione knew what Lucius was capable of, as did Ronald Weasley, but still he continued goad the former death eater.

“It is my business that you have her under an Imperius curse.”

The look on Lucius Malfoy’s face was murderous. To accuse another wizard of casting one of the three unforgivable curses, without foundation or proof, was folly enough, to accuse Lucius Malfoy was tantamount to a death wish.  Hermione saw Lucius’ other hand come up to his cane, the serpent head parting company with the ebony lacquered stick.

“Crap!” Muttered Draco, evidently having a similar thought. “Weasley is really pushing his luck.”

“Not that I need to justify myself to you boy, but Miss Granger is a guest in this house, as are you. A guest of her own free will, invited by my son.”

Ron’s laughter was sceptical: “You expect me to believe that she would want set foot in this house willingly. After what you and your family did to her the last time she was here.”

Lucius might have been masked and her view partially obscured but Hermione saw him visibly blanch at Ron’s cutting words. His knuckles whitening more than his face, as they clenched the silver serpent head, pulling it yet further from the dark cane.

“Miss Granger, I believe had few options for the Christmas holidays, her friends, it appeared were all away.” Lucius paused, allowing his words to sink in and hit their mark.

“Draco extended his….our hospitality, and Miss Granger graciously accepted.”

Lucius words were icy calm and measured, but he fought desperately to keep his tempter, his fingers all the while toying with his wand, his brain reminding him, this was Hermione’s friend and that he himself, was not the man he once was. Arthur Weasley’s son was severely testing his resolve.  That he would have the impudence to speak to him in this offhand manner or question him in any way in his own home was cheek enough, that he had the audacity to accuse him of casting an Imperius curse was beyond the pale.

“No way would Hermione want to spend time with you and your spawn, not out of choice.”

His temper was getting away from him. Insulting him and Draco was one thing. That this wretched boy thought he could speak for Hermione was something else.

“I can assure you Weaslebee, Granger was only too pleased to accept my offer after you and her other so called friends decided to bugger off and leave her without a second thought.”

Reading his father’s body language, and not to mention seeing his twitching fingers, Draco knew the situation was escalating. The thought of Ron Weasley confronting his father had been amusing at first, but the red head was really treading on exceedingly thin ice, provoking his father and making such accusations. Personally he had no objection to whatever his father had in mind for the annoying redhead, but for Hermione’s sake and also for the backlash it would have on his father, Draco decided to intercede. Extricating himself from Hermione’s ever tightening grip he moved forward.  

“Now now Draco, there is no need to be insulting to our guest, if Mister Weasley’s feels that we have lured Miss Granger her under false pretences, we must respect his ill-informed and shallow opinion.”

Draco sniggered at his father’s words, sensing a slight easing of his rage. His intercession clearly having the desired effect.

“Even Hermione didn’t stand a chance against the two of you. You and your dark magic. It must be one hell of an Imperio you cast Malfoy.” Ron directed his allegations and hatred towards Lucius. “For her to think she’s in love with you. What in Merlin’s name have you done to her?”

Merlin’s beard, Hermione reeled at Ron’s words. She saw Draco and his father exchange glances. They were both either totally stunned at his revelation or about to hex Ron Weasley into the New Year a few hours ahead of time.

Her spiked heels clattered on the stone floor. As she drew closer to the three men, she removed her mask. Her eyes changing back to their usual honey brown as she shook her severely tethered hair free, allowing it to cascade in its usual wild mass about her bare shoulders.

 “Enough.” Her voice was calmer than she felt as she moved to stand between father and son.

With a brief flick of his now unsheathed wand Lucius too dispensed with his mask, with its removal his hair immediately returned to its usual platinum blonde. Draco followed suit, she looked nervously between them, had the damage already been done?

Lucius smiled at her, his grey full of emotion. His son wasn’t smiling but the wink he gave Hermione said it all, giving her the final push of courage she needed.   She took a step forward flanked by the two Malfoy men.

“Mione, let me…..”

Ron extended his hand toward her. Even without looking around she could feel Lucius and Draco tense at his sudden movement.

“Do not call me that Ronald Weasley.” Hermione saw him visibly recoil, her words doing more damage than the threat of any magical retribution. She took a deep breath and continued.

“Like Lucius I do not have to justify myself to you.”

In contrast to the two men behind her, Ron still wore his mask. The shock in his expressive blue eyes at her use of Lucius’ given name was tangible even in the dim light of the hallway.

“However, for the sake of my more than gracious hosts I will. I am here Ronald Weasley of my own volition. I was invited by Draco, with whom I have become good friends.  He needed no charms or spells to get me here, just a simple spend the Christmas holiday with me and my father worked just fine.”

She hadn’t envisaged admitting her true feelings for Lucius in the hallway of his home, in front of his son and her ex-boyfriend, especially when she had only just admitted them to herself. But Ron had taken that out of her hands. There was little or no point denying her words, Draco for starters knew that Ron had overheard something which made her flush to the roots of her hair, and then of course there was the fact that they were perfectly true. 

She would be returning to Hogwarts the day after tomorrow, if she needed to avoid Lucius until then, so be it, but she wasn’t going to deny her feelings just to appease Ronald Weasley.  She shivered slightly, feeling the sting of tears at the worst case scenario.

“My feelings for Lucius………” She began a little hoarsely.

She felt a warm hand on her lower back, Lucius’ powerful presence at her side. Draco too came into her peripheral vision. She moved closer to Lucius soaking up his strength.

“My feelings for Lucius, I will not have demeaned or besmirched by the likes of you. You listened in on a private conversation, no good ever comes from eavesdropping.  You are of course entitled to your opinion. That you have reacted in this immature fashion is your choice. We are just friends now Ronald, or we were. This is my life.”

Once again Hermione saw the reaction her punitive words were having on her long-time friend. She saw his blue eyes flit between the two men, eyeing Lucius with suspicion and contempt. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but his words against both Lucius and Draco had hurt her and as always she would defend her friends.

“This is not my house, that I can ask you to leave it, but if you are unable to accept that I am here of my own free will. Why I am here, or my feelings then, I am sure that Lucius will take great pleasure in asking you to do so or having you removed, one way or another.”

Ron’s hand came up to his flushed face and he too removed his mask,

“But Mi…Hermione.”

“Ronald this is not open for debate or further discussion. Coming to this house and _everything_ I have done in it, I have done because I wanted to. You either accept that or you don’t, it is very simple.”

Hermione felt Lucius’s thumb gently circling her back in a reassuring gesture.

 

“What’s it to be Weasley?” It was Draco who asked the question. Secretly hoping that his old school nemesis was not in an accepting mood, and that he could have the pleasure of throwing him out. 

 

Ronald Weasley would take on anyone for Hermione Granger, even two Malfoy’s, but she didn’t want him to, she was siding with them against him. She had told Minerva McGonagall she was in love with a man she once hated, would have killed. But no matter how much he despised the situation, Ron couldn’t go against her. He didn’t understand what had happened or what was going on, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to. Right now he simply couldn’t speak.  He put up his hands in defeat and shaking his head with incomprehension he backed away.

Draco Malfoy received an approving nod from his father and followed.  Leaving him and Hermione alone in the hallway.


	24. Veritas et Mendacium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So just how will Lucius Malfoy react to the fact that Hermione is in love with him...........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with this story, which I admit to having far too much fun with. My usual thanks and apologies come along with Chapter 24.

 

For a second time in a short expanse of time, Hermione found her hand gripped by the steely fingers of a Malfoy, and dragged rather unceremoniously down the manor hallway. This time it was back towards Lucius’ study, by the man himself. Trying to keep up with his long, purposeful strides was no mean feat, especially in the high strappy sandals that she wore.

Once inside, she heard Lucius ward the door and cast a secrecy charm. There would be no more overheard conversations on this night that was for sure.  Lucius dropped his cane against the desk, the hard ebony lacquer clattering against the solid oak. Apprehension cantering through Hermione’s veins, it raced to catch up with her galloping heart. Watching as he poured himself a hefty tot of the whisky Minerva McGonagall had enjoyed earlier. Hermione flung the tiny strand of green silk she had used to secure her hair, along with her mask, into one of the chairs where they had sat, it looked forlornly back at her.

Still tightly clasping one of her hands in his own, Lucius downed the shot of whisky in one go. The expensive amber liquid burning his throat and heating his blood still further. Putting the heavy tumbler back down onto the desk, he took Hermione’s other hand in his. His luminous grey eyes fell to her now familiar honey brown ones. His lustrous blonde hair once more framing his pale face, hers, wild and loose about her shoulders.

Lucius’ voice was rough and low as he spoke to her for the first time. “What the Weasley boy said.” He practically spat his name. “Was it true?”

Hermione felt the colour rising up through her body, heat following close behind. She had never lied to Lucius and she had never permitted courage to fail her in his presence. Whatever the cost, that wasn’t going to change now.

“About my feelings for you?” She asked quietly, her eyes not leaving his beautiful, but stern face for a moment.

He nodded his head sharply in affirmation. His Brave Little Gryffindor, Lucius knew that she would not lie to him. He held his breath waiting for her response, seeing her take a deep, slow breath.

“Yes Lucius, it’s true. I am in love with you.”

“I see.” His face remained implacable and emotionless. His cold grey eyes fixed upon her.

“And how did the Weasley boy know this?” His head titled questioningly.

Hermione’s heart was beating so fast, she though it would jump clean out of her chest. This wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to go. It was obvious from everything about his demeanour, that whilst Lucius enjoyed having her as his friend, and as his lover, that was all he wanted. Disconsolately she explained.

“I brought Minerva McGonagall in here for her decent whisky. It was quiet and I thought we could catch up. I’ve never been able to hide anything from her, not since I was 11 years old.”

Hermione omitted the headmistress’s comments about Lucius, clearly she didn’t know the school governor as well as she knew her long time pupil.

“Nothing much gets past her, she asked me out and out if I was in love with you. I could never lie to her either. According to Draco, who caught him, Ron was eavesdropping at the door. Draco didn’t know _what_ Ron had overheard, but he guessed from his reaction, it must have been something to do with you and I.”

“I see.” The dark wizard said once more. His face remaining hard and unreadable. His eyes the colour of slate.

“I am sorry Lucius.”

“For what exactly?” His aristocratic tone was soft but penetrating.

The heat finally rose and suffused Hermione’s face: “For embarrassing you, making you feel uncomfortable. For…..” her voice began to crack.

“For falling in love with me?” He asked, his voice mocking, a self-deprecating sneer curling his lip.

 Lucius saw her eyes sparkle angrily, and her chin rise in defiance.

“No.” She said emphatically. “Not that it matters at all now.  I am just sorry that you heard it from Ronald Weasley.” A weak smile touched her lips.

Releasing one of her hands, Lucius cupped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head sharply so the eyes which had fallen to his chest now looked directly into his.

“I love you too.” He said quietly, his thumb gently brushing her warm cheek.

“Yes, I would rather have heard it from your beautiful lips. However, I think perhaps I have the young Weasley to thank for expediting the situation. It might have taken you and I a lot longer to admit it.”

Hermione simply stared at Lucius, her brain only managing to pick out certain words after the first four. She felt his thumb brushing away a tear that had spilled onto her cheek.

Finally finding her voice, Hermione spoke.

“Ronald was right about the fact that you have me under a very powerful spell.”

Lucius crooked his head in perplexity, that infamous eyebrow raising once more, his eyes softening.

“You have had, since that first day at Hogwarts, but the only magic involved is simply you.”

Hermione moved closer to him, slipping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his, just as she had wanted to do all evening. His arms tightened around her as he returned her kiss, his lips moving sweetly over hers.

The last time Lucius had been awash with such a myriad of joyful emotions was the day his son was born. Amidst the love and passion he was feeling at this moment, he found an odd sense of urgency creeping through his body. He silently cursed the houseful of guests he had, finding himself simply wanting to be alone with this amazing young witch, who had brought so much back into his life.

This wasn’t really the time for deep and meaningful confessions, not with the same houseful of guests, just the other side of the door, who were probably wondering what had happened to their host. But Lucius had the overwhelming urge to afford Hermione with the same truthfulness she had shown him.

Their lips finally parted and he took a small step backwards, his hands dropping to her shoulders, gently caressing the silky skin.

Hermione saw the seriousness in his face, a face no longer devoid of emotions. She instinctively reached out, stroking her fingers across his cheek.

“I lied to you Hermione.” He said earnestly.

Her hand stilled against his face, her mouth becoming dry, she swallowed hard before speaking.

“Why?”

Her question didn’t go unnoticed by Lucius, she hadn’t asked him, about what, but why.

“Because, my Brave Little Gryffindor.” His thumbs delicately tracing her collar bones. His eyes fixed on her face. “I was afraid, and I still am.”

To hear such an admission from this man tore at her heart strings. What could he possibly have to fear from her? Hermione knew there was so much she didn’t know about Lucius Malfoy, she probably never would, none of that was important, what mattered was that they were honest with each other now.

“Lucius you have nothing to fear from me. Whatever you tell me, my feelings will not change.”

Hermione knew that to be true. Whilst he had been a Death Eater, done the Dark Lord’s bidding, Lucius Malfoy was no Voldemort.

Lucius smiled at her, but the smile could not remove the fear that clouded his expressive grey eyes.

“I told you that I wanted you as my friend, as my lover. I asked you if that was alright. But it wasn’t what I wanted.”

Confusion engulfed the young witch, he had just told her that he loved her, and now he was saying he didn’t want her as his friend or his lover.

“I told you I wanted those things because, I thought it was too soon to tell you how I really felt and what I really wanted.  I am not a man known for my patience Hermione, and you are so young. I thought that any other declarations on my part, would overwhelm you, perhaps frighten you. Maybe even drive you away and….Merlin forbid I didn’t want to do that.”

Hermione remembered the conversation in this very room. How they had been sprawled out on the sofa, an idea sprang into her mind. From his words Hermione knew she had nothing to fear, the fear was his. She also knew whatever else he said, she too had nothing to fear.

Hermione took a curious Lucius by the hand, and led him over to the sofa. Smiling at the bewildered look on his face, she told him to sit down.

“I want you to tell me the truth Lucius, so let’s do it again. Only this time you say what you really felt and what you really wanted okay?”

Still this incredible young woman had the power to surprise him. He could now say it, in all honesty, it was one of the things he _loved_ about her.  His house full of guests forgotten, Lucius Malfoy once again stretched out on the sofa in his study. The unobtrusive music played softly in the background and Hermione kicked off her sandals. In her long silken evening dress she nestled between his long legs, resting comfortably against the length of his body.

Lucius didn’t have to think too hard about that afternoon, or their conversation, he had replayed it over in his head many times. Asking himself if he had done the right thing, chiding himself for not having the courage to tell her how he really felt, or asking her what he had really wanted to.

“Are you sure about this Hermione?”

His dress robes making him look a lot less comfortable than he did on that afternoon, the spectre of apprehension lingered at his shoulder and reflected in his eyes, making it even more so. Hermione rested her small hand reassuringly on his chest.

“Yes Lucius I am sure. Tell me.”

He recalled verbatim their conversation and his words to her that cold snowy afternoon, but a few short days ago. He also recollected vividly where he had changed what he had wanted to say.

“You had said you didn’t know exactly what our relationship was…….”

“I remember Lucius…..you said you hadn’t been in a situation like _this_ , for as many years as I had been alive.”

Her smile was rueful, her eyes twinkling, Lucius smiled too, at her excellent memory.

 “What I ……. what I wanted to say went more along the lines of……I know our relationship is about more than just sex, so much more.”

Hermione felt him take a deep steadying breath beneath her. She couldn’t deny a little frisson of apprehension trickled down her spine, but it was washed away in a flood of curiosity and expectation.

“Unbelievably, at this moment you are my friend and my lover. I love that you are both of those things, but that isn’t enough, not for me Hermione. I am not a patient man, nor am I a man who does things in half measurers. I am in love with you, and I want more, I want you. As my friend, as my lover and as my wife.”

Just as they had been on that afternoon, Hermione’s eyes were bright with tears. She had been overwhelmed by the words he had struggled to find on that day, but she recalled her own response and reaction clearly too.  She once more wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself up his body, her lips capturing his in the same soft kiss.

“And I would say ….. That’s just about perfect”

He noticed the brief pause in her words, feeling the pressure of her kiss increase, his body reacted involuntarily to hers, this time however it was tinged with uncertainty.

“I love having you as my friend Lucius Malfoy, even at this moment I would very much like you as my lover, but......”

She paused, her lips once more gently brushing his, her honey brown eyes brimming with unshed tears as they met his anxious grey ones.

“I would be honoured to be your wife.”

Her words took a moment to sink in. Lucius had resigned himself to the fact, the _but,_ was going to be followed by, _I cannot……_ that he had pushed things too far, too fast. Again he found love and passion racing through his body, again it was joined but that odd sense of urgency.  There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to do. The fact that she had miraculously agreed to be his wife, and that they would have a lifetime to “do and say”, seemed somehow irrelevant.

Hermione waited for Lucius to say something, anything, the fact he didn’t, made her laugh. With laughter on her lips she kissed him once more.  Only to find herself pushed back.

“Tonight.” He said sitting up and looking into her startled, happy face.

“Tonight? Tonight what?”

“Marry me tonight. I told you Hermione I am not a patient man.”

Hermione’s head was spinning, one minute he was saying nothing, the next….

“Kingsley Shacklebolt is here, I can pull a few strings I am sure and he can perform the ceremony, we can sort out everything else afterwards.”

There it was again, that like father, like son. It was Draco and the Christmas presents all over again, Lucius practically brimming with uncontained, childlike excitement.  His usually pale face flushed with anticipation and exhilaration.  His enthusiasm was utterly contagious and she would have said yes in a heartbeat. But there was a certain amount of reality to consider. And there was Draco to consider.  Hermione wasn’t bothered in the least about her other friends, if Ron’s reaction was anything to go by, they would be none too pleased, but Draco’s opinion and feelings counted. This was after all his father.

“You are going to say no aren’t you?” Lucius said, suddenly looking utterly crestfallen.

“I have no reason to say no Lucius.”

She saw his face light up again, grasping his hand before he got too carried away.

 “But Draco has to be alright with it. Accepting me sharing your bed is one thing, accepting me as your wife, might be a very different thing.”

She was wise beyond her years and she was right of course. Once upon a time, Lucius Malfoy would not have given a thought for anyone else’s feelings or opinions, least of all his son’s. Amongst all of the other things Hermione Granger had unknowingly given Lucius Malfoy, she had given him a relationship with his son he would never have thought possible. Turning a fragile link of cold lineage into an ever strengthening bond of trust and dare he say love.

“I will go and find him and speak to him…..”

“We will do it together. I don’t want you shielding me from anything, uncomplimentary he might have to say.”

Lucius gave her a look which was steeped in, _as if I would_. But he said nothing, helping her to her feet, and waiting as she slipped on her sandals. She went to pick up the tiny strand of green silk and her mask, but he stopped her. A broad smile curled her lips and they left the room, her hand firmly clasped in his. 

 

There were more than just the few shocked faces of the Malfoy ancestors as Hermione, her hand again firmly in the grasp of a Malfoy, was once more practically dragged along the hallways of the manor. This was getting to be a really annoying habit.

Back in the ballroom, their unmasked faces were even more of a surprise to the assembled guests, as clearly was the fact that Lucius was still holding Hermione’s hand. The three Weasley’s chatting to Minerva McGonagall, looked more appalled than surprised, well two of them did, Arthur Weasley looking nowhere near as sour and dismayed as his wife or youngest son. The Hogwarts Headmistress however looked delighted, a huge smile illuminating her face.

Hermione spotted Draco on the dance floor. His mask firmly back in place, the long talloned fingers of Nemessia Fellows draped around his neck, their tall slim bodies moving almost sensually together in time to the music.  That like father, like son, thought flashed through Hermione’s mind once more. Clearly the younger Malfoy was as unconcerned as his father. Not giving a second thought tonight, about what people might think or say, but then it was a masquerade ball, anonymity supposedly the key, and it was after all New Year’s Eve.

Draco spotted his unmasked father and Hermione, excusing himself form Nemessia Fellows, who promptly found herself in the arms of the Minister for Magic.

As he moved across the floor to join them, he too spotted their linked fingers.

“Decided to go public then?” He asked, his glittering blue eyes dropping to their hands.

“Pot kettle and black Ferret” Hermione responded, keen to preserve his good humour.

Hermione noticed his eyes flash to his father.

“Indeed” Lucius observed with the same sense of wry humour as Hermione, and evidently as eager as her to maintain his son’s good mood.

“I was just playing the noble host, in your absence father, keeping the guests happy.” Draco explained amusement twitching his thin lips.

“From where I was standing my boy, I have to say Nemessia looked more than happy.”

Draco couldn’t withhold the smile which now settled on his lips. There was a look of understanding and acceptance, exchanged between father and son. Hermione felt Lucius’ fingers tighten around her own.

“Weasley’s has been behaving himself.” Draco said, changing the subject, as they moved back into the quieter seclusion of the hallway to continue their conversation.

“From the looks on their faces I guess he told Ma and Pa. But it he hasn’t said anything to anyone else. But then he doesn’t need to, not now.” His eyes falling once more to his father’s and Hermione’s hands.

Lucius lifted Hermione’s hand to his lips and brushing them softly against the back.

Hermione flushed gently against his open display of affection.

“See Granger I was right, doesn’t happen very often with you, so I’ll celebrate my small victory unashamedly”. He punched the air as if he had just caught the golden snitch.

His words earning him curious looks from both his father and Hermione.

“I told Granger.” Both Draco and Hermione, still reverted to their school names for each other, Lucius seeming to having given up trying to change that.

Draco went on with his explanation: “When I caught Weasley eavesdropping, that I doubted you cared who knew. The way you were dancing with her and looking at her. I didn’t get what all the fuss was about.”  

Lucius jumped at the opportunity to push Draco’s words a step further, hoping that his son would be as understanding and acquiescent of what he was about to say.

“Draco.........Draco would you feel the same way, if mine and Hermione’s relationship, was more permanent?” He cringed at his own words, they sounded so unemotional and proper.

Draco looked from his father to Hermione, he wasn’t entirely sure he knew what his father was asking, or what he wanted him to say. But from the intense looks he was getting from his father and his school friend, clearly a lot rested on his reply.

“Permanent?” He repeated. “As in like …..err….permanent”

Despite the gravity which hung in Draco’s response, Hermione couldn’t help the little smile which lifted her lips. At times her friend could be a typical man and the sometimes slow to catch on boy……man, she had become so fond of.

Realisation dawned. Draco Malfoy knew his father well enough to know, he was old school. Brought up to respect his heritage and all the traditions that went with it. Permanent would only mean one thing to Lucius Malfoy, marriage. Draco once more glanced between Hermione and his father.

His school friend, someone who because of that same heritage and those same traditions, he had hated and tormented. But who now, he couldn’t imagine his life without. How that had happened, he had thought about many times, initially for long periods, but now he didn’t care how it had happened, he was just glad it had. 

His father, who because of that same heritage and those same traditions, had until now never felt like a real father to him. But who now, he understood and even had the greatest respect for.  How that had happened he had thought about, initially for long periods, but now he knew exactly how it had happened. It was because of the young woman at his father’s side. His school friend. 

Draco smiled at his father’s words, he wanted to make their relationship more permanent. That same heritage and those same traditions, making his words sound so formal and cold, and yet he could see that Hermione blew that formality and coldness away, he had never seen his father so warm and less formal in his life.

“Permanent……” He once again repeated the word slowly, watching infuriation touch his father’s face and his friend’s smile waver nervously.

“For Salazar’s sake father do you mean you want to marry her?”

Hermione, heard Lucius respond with a quiet but firm yes.  As a broad grin spread across Draco’s re-masked face. She found herself in the embrace of her school friend, hearing him ask.

“When.”

“Well, actually I was hoping that I could pull a few strings with Kingsley Shacklebolt and get him to perform the ceremony tonight.”

Again, both Lucius and Hermione waited nervously for Draco’s response. He continued to surprise both of them, to the point where Hermione began to think, he was someone else, polyjuiced.

“Great idea, why waste a good party.”

“That wasn’t quite the reason behind my thinking Draco, but I suppose you do have a point.”  A hint of exasperation laced Lucius’ aristocratic voice.

 

“What a superb party Lucius, it’s been a long time since I have enjoyed myself quite so much”

Kingsley Shacklebolt joined the three of them, visibly a little breathless from being whirled around the dance floor by Nemessia Fellows, he clasped Lucius hand warmly.

Three set of eyes fell on the very opportune arrival of the Minister for Magic.

“Kingsley, excellent timing, might I have a quick word.”

Lucius continued to grip the Minister’s hand, leading him out of earshot of his son and Hermione. Both of whom watched attentively as the two men walked away.  Their conversation looked animated and intense at times, but finally culminated in what from a distance, looked like an amenable outcome.  The two men shaking hands warmly once more and returning to Hermione and Draco.

“It would appear congratulations are in order my dear.” The Minister for Magic gave Hermione a brief hug. “I will look forward to performing the ceremony later. Draco, Lucius.”

Shacklebolt excused himself and returned once more in the direction of the ballroom and the dancing. Immediately making his vibrant presence felt on the floor.

“11.30.” Lucius said, suddenly appearing a little overwhelmed himself. He glanced at the large clock in the hallway, it was just before 10pm.

The ever surprising Draco seeming to take over, telling his father to leave everything to him. Hermione wasn’t sure if that enthused confidence or not, but she was just happy he was so keen to do so.  He was about to dash of somewhere, when Lucius called after him.

“Draco”. He left Hermione’s side for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.

“Draco…..would you be my best man?”

A hard lump formed in Hermione’s throat, pain constricting her chest as father and son stood looking at each other for a long moment. Draco finally clasping his father’s hand and then embracing him warmly. Tears spilled onto her cheeks, as he answered.

“Yes, of course. I would be honoured.”

Obviously not wanting to get caught up in too much emotion. Draco virtually sprinted down the long corridor, saying he had lots to do, and shouting after Hermione to go find herself a bridesmaid.

Lucius walked back to Hermione, once more brushing tears from her cheeks.

“I am not sure you are supposed to cry so much on you wedding day my dear.”

She gave her future husband a watery smile. “But only ones of pure happiness honestly.”

She went into his strong arms, savouring everything about him. Everything she loved so much about him. Her mouth seeking his in a passionate kiss.

“You don’t know how much I want you right now” He said against her lips.

Through his heavy robes and her silky dress she felt his arousal swell. She moved closer against him, the love she felt for this man quickly turning to heated desire.

“Oh I think I have a very good idea.” She too glancing at the ancient clock that stood in the hallway. “Do we have anything to do, for the next ninety minutes?” She asked rubbing herself provocatively against the fast hardening length of his body.

Lucius feigned shock, moving fractionally away from her enticing body.

“Sex before marriage, Miss Granger I am shocked. There are proprieties to observe.”

She pouted at Lucius, her bottom lip jutting childishly. Her eyes twinkling with catlike intensity, as her forefinger travelled slowly over his chest, reaching his stomach and moving lower. He caught her fingers between his own just as they reached their goal, a low groan escaping his lips.

This time it was Hermione who grabbed Lucius Malfoy by the hand and unceremoniously dragged him down the hallway, returning once more to his study, where this time she warded the room and applied a secrecy charm.

 

 


	25. Who Gives This Woman?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the masquerade ball does indeed turn into one of the social events of the wizarding world calendar.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK one and all, based on what I already know this is how I see a wizard wedding going. I hope it comes up to scratch and that you enjoy it.......
> 
> Adult content to kick off this chapter in celebration of the upcoming nuptials........

 

 

Whilst it had been Lucius who had voiced his need for her, it was Hermione who found herself driven by crushing desire. She wasn’t sure if her senses were heightened due to the fact that Lucius had told her loved her, and that she was less than two hours away from becoming Mrs Malfoy, or the fact that beyond the heavy wooden door to his study was a manor full of guests.

Hot wet need lapped at her skin as Lucius moved into her, his eyes shone with passion and with love. But an almost lecherous smile curved his mouth, making her want him all the more. He stepped forward, pinning Hermione against that same heavy wooden door, with his powerful frame. She felt the hard, cool wood against her bare back, the sensation sending a small shiver pulsing through her.  Her already tightening nipples hardening with both the chill and her wild desire. The clingy, backless, silk dress, afforded no room for a bra, and the taught buds peaked against the lustrous fabric. Her shallow breathing making her breasts rise and fall deliciously against his chest. Shifting back slightly, Lucius’ eyes flitted from her face, to their rapid rise and fall, his hands slowly rising to caress the swollen peaks through the gossamer material. He heard her moan softly at his languid touch, her body now arching into him, craving him. 

This really wasn’t the time or the place for a quickie up against the wall or in this case a door. But both of them were being swept away on a fast rising tide of emotional need. Lucius could see from her flushed face and aroused body, just how much she wanted him. It was an unspoken visceral look which hit straight at his groin. 

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, as he cupped her breasts in his hands, his thumb and forefinger mercilessly teasing each aching buds.  She sought his lips once more, her tongue demanding access to the moist cavern beyond, that blissful taste of him, the sweetness of his response, coated hot primitive desire. His fingers left her breasts and she felt the endless silk of her dress bunched in his hands, rising painfully slowly.

The rough wool of his robes abrading against her now bare legs as the material gathered around her waist.  Hermione thrust herself hard against him, needing to feel him more than ever.  His arousal was like rock against her groin and he moaned as she ground herself harder upon him.

Lucius grabbed her hands sliding them above her head. His body throbbed, seeing her like this was beyond erotic.  A quick reparo charm, would easily fix the dress he wanted to tear from her body, but she looked exquisite like this. So sensual and wanton but at the same time, so helpless and pure. His fingers gripped her wrists tightly, his mouth moving over hers, plundering it, savouring the sweetness of the woman who was about to become his in every way.  

Hermione felt him release her hands, but not her mouth. Her tiny knickers falling to the floor with a deft movement of his hand, another freeing himself from the restrictive confines of his trousers.

In her heels, Hermione was just about the right height, but with one hand he lifted her slightly, using the door behind to steady her. The other gripped his throbbing flesh as he took the shaft in his hand and guided himself into her wet folds.

“Lucius please.” Her voice was soft, pleading and almost unrecognisable.

One hand rested on the wall to the side of her head, the other held her firmly against him. The fabric of her dress rustled to the floor where he had released it, held aloft only where their bodies were joined.

All the emotions of the evening flooding his body. As he felt her tight heat constrict around him, Lucius thrust hard and unhurriedly into her, almost as if it were slow motion. Her head falling back against the door behind her. She arched harder into him, her soft inner walls tightening so hard around him it was nearly painful. Again he withdrew, almost too far, before slipping back into her with measured accuracy. Sheathed fully inside her, Lucius felt her once more contract round him, he pressed forward harder, and after two purposeful thrusts, she was screaming his name. Her muscles fluttering around him, stroking him with such sweet intensity, it  sent Lucius flying suddenly and unexpectedly over the edge, pumping himself forcefully into her as she came down from her own orgasm.

A decidedly feline smile lighting her face as she stretched lazily against the door, Lucius body slipping from her. She leant forward to kiss him, stroking his now flaccid cock, he moaned against her soft hips, his sensitive flesh twitching in her hand. He felt her smile against his lips.

“Such behaviour from the future Lady of the Manor.” Lucius all but growled, “I approve.” 

“How long do we have?” She murmured

Lucius disentangled himself from her grasp and straightening his rumpled clothing he checked the pocket watch on his waistcoat.

“Fifty minutes,” He announced returning the watch and performing a quick cleansing and tidying charm on both of them.

“Plenty of time,” She whispered, touching his face and once more needing to brush her lips to his. “As Draco tells me I only need to find a bridesmaid.”

“I assume that you have someone in mind.”

She nodded, a beautiful smile lighting her positively glowing face. Lucius had reached for the tiny strand of green silk that sat on one of the chairs alongside her discarded mask.

“May I?” He held up the thin shiny strand.

“Of course.” Hermione smiled indulgently at him. The man clearly had a thing for dressing her, and always without the aid of magic. She loved it, she loved him.

He ran his long fingers through her unruly hair, as if they were a giant comb. Gently untangling it and carefully smoothing it before securing it loosely at her nape in an elegant pony tail.

“I need to go and find Professor McGonagall, you should check up on Draco?”

“Yes Miss Granger.” Lucius picked up his cane and obediently followed Hermione from the room.

“Not for much longer.” She said squeezing his arm and going off in search of Minerva McGonagall.

There was only one person Hermione wanted as, well, perhaps not her bridesmaid, but definitely her Matron of Honour. After searching for only a few minutes, she found the Hogwarts Headmistress ensconced in a corner with Xena Perry. The two old friends no doubt swapping the latest gossip. McGonagall excused herself to speak to Hermione, almost squealing with delight at both Hermione’s news and her request. They walked arm in arm from the ballroom, stopping in the relative quiet of the hallway, where Hermione seemed to be spending an awful lot of her evening.

“I will say this for Lucius Malfoy, he doesn’t let the grass grow under his feet. Now let me see the ring”

“I don’t have one yet. It all happened rather quickly Professor.”

Minerva McGonagall patted Hermione’s arm affectionately.

“As you are about to become a married woman Hermione, I think you have earned the right to call me Minerva, at least when we are not at school”.

“Thank you Pro…Minerva.”

“Now about these rings. I don’t suppose you have any wedding bands either!” The older witch, tsk tsk  and shook her head.

Hermione doubted that Lucius had given it a thought either, they had been rather distracted, since Draco had gone off to organise things. The man himself reappeared at Hermione’s side, assuring her that his son had everything in hand…..or at least he said he did!

“Profess….Minerva was just asking about our rings.”

The dismayed look on Lucius Malfoy’s face said it all.

“Just as I suspected.” Said the older witch.

Lucius was horrified, how could he not of thought of something so important? There was untold jewellery in his vault at Gringotts, although he wasn’t entirely sure he would inflict any of it on Hermione.  It was far too heavy and ornate for her small frame and delicate complexion.  The ensemble that she now wore, he’d had specially made for her. His mother’s wedding ring was kept here at the manor, but it too was a gaudy and unsightly piece, and he doubted his mother would approve of her wearing it. Still, even if her portrait did rain hell down on him, he supposed it would do for now, until he could replace it. It wasn’t ideal but it was better than nothing.

Minerva McGonagall was reaching into the pocket of her robes she wore. Retrieving a small blue velvet pouch.

“I believe Hermione, there is a Muggle tradition for brides, where they are, on their wedding day required to have, something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue.”

Hermione nodded, taking the blue velvet pouch from her headmistresses’ outstretched hand.

“Lucius is your something new.” The canny Scot smiled at the tall blonde wizard standing at Hermione’s side. “Here is your something old and something blue. I am sure we can find something to borrow from someone in due course.”

Hermione drew open the silky strings on the pouch, tipping the contents into the palm of her hand. Two heavy gold bands glistened back at her, she knew they weren’t just something, she happened to keep about her person.

“Minerva, we cannot possibly.” It was Lucius’ aristocratic tones which permeated the quiet air.

Hermione was speechless, her eyes once again brimming with tears.

“Nonsense Lucius. I won’t take no for an answer. I have no one to pass them onto. My nieces and nephews are all long since married. Those sit in my pocket every day.” She gestured the two, very simple bands of gold with a small inclination of her head. Her green eyes shining with fond memories.  

“What’s the point of that? It would make me very happy to think of them bringing you the same joy that they brought me.”

Hermione hugged McGonagall as Lucius thank her.

“Enough with the sentiment.” She said brusquely. “Now let’s see if we can’t find something to borrow.”

Hermione saw a devilish twinkle in her green eyes and couldn’t help wonder, just what she had up those long Tudor styles sleeves of hers. Her hand once more grabbed, this time by determined Scot. Leaving a rather amused Lucius behind, Hermione was once more dragged along the hallway of Malfoy Manor, this time back into the ballroom and in the direction of Xena Perry.

“The Young Malfoy boy, just announced that his father is about to be married, Minerva and you missed it.”

“I know Xena, this is his bride to be.”

The little round witch bustled with excitement, peering closely at Hermione. “Oh yes we met at the Christmas Eve party, you are at Hogwarts aren’t you, with ……”

“Yes, yes, Xena.” Minerva interrupted her friend, knowing where her words were going. “We need something borrowed. Let me have your broach.”

The short, rotund little witch, looked slightly miffed and a little confused at her friend’s request, but handed her the broach without question. Shaped like of a basket of flowers, it glittered in McGonagall’s hand. With a swift wave of her wand and a sharp “Orchideous” the shining piece of jewellery was transfigured into a stunning bouquet of white orchids and dusty pink roses.

 

“I am sorry ladies, might I just interrupt for just a moment?” A familiar voice came from behind Hermione, her hand shaking slightly as she turned to face Arthur Weasley.

“Come Xena, let’s go and check my hat is on straight, as Matron of Honour I have to look my best.”

The little witch looked even more miffed and even more confused but once again complied with her friend’s request and they headed off.

Hermione wasn’t sure if she was grateful or not for being left alone with Ron’s father.

His mask removed, she looked nervously into the ruddy face of Arthur Weasley. She noticed him glance across the room, to where his son and wife were watching him, or should she say glaring at him.

He smiled warmly at her, his blue eyes softening as he spoke.

“Molly and Ron are none too happy about me doing this can’t say I blame them entirely. But well you know me.” He shrugged his broad shoulders resignedly.

“Ron’s just sulking probably because you aren’t marrying him and Molly well, she is not as forgiving as me. Malfoy was a Death Eater and losing her brother’s to Death Eaters, guilt by association and all that. She’s here, for her that is a big step”

Hermione touched his arm affectionately, knowing how difficult this must be for him, going against his wife and his son for her. He went on quickly in his usual blustering way.

“I work with Malfoy, have done for a good while now. I know he’s changed and I know a bit of what he’s been through. We are all very fond of you and well if no one else did it, I wanted to wish you all the best. The others will come round eventually.”

 

Hermione fought tears yet again, her emotions were all over the place tonight. She wasn’t a tearful person usually.  Arthur Weasley took her in his arms, careful not to crush her flowers or crease her dress.

“I am sure your parents would be very proud of you Hermione, you are an incredible young woman. Lucius Malfoy is a very lucky man.”

“Thank you Mister Weasley, you are very kind.”

Hermione had thought about her parents many times over the Christmas holidays, even more so this evening. Picturing her father giving her away, her mother shedding a few tears of her own as he did so.  Despite having Minerva McGonagall with her, Hermione would be walking to her future husband alone, the thought saddened her, and a tear spilled onto her cheek.

“Mister Weasley…..would you. Sorry no it’s ok.” She brushed the tear from her cheek and turned to go. “Thank you again for your lovely words, I know it wasn’t easy.”

“What were you going to ask me? Is there something I can do for you?”

Hermione looked into his kindly blue eyes. She had no right to ask him this, or to put him in this position. But he could say no and she would understand.

“Please feel free to say no if this makes you feel uncomfortable or you feel it will get you into too much trouble……”

“What can I do for your Hermione?”

“Would you give me away?” She looked down into her bouquet, toying with the delicate petals. Understanding if he said no, but desperately wanting him to say yes.

“I don’t care what bother it gets me to into, it would be my absolute pleasure Hermione, if you are sure you want me.”

Hermione’s honey brown eyes shone brightly at the red headed man standing before her, his generosity of spirit humbling her.

“Oh I couldn’t think of anyone I would rather do it, as long as you are sure…… I don’t…..”

Arthur Weasley hugged her once more, a little more forcefully this time.  As he let her go, Hermione once more noticed him glance in the direction of his wife and son.

“It will be fine, trust me. I know my wife and I’ve enjoyed Ron’s tantrums since he was old enough to walk, until, well just now really. So what do I need to do?”

Hermione laughed at his words, she knew all about Ronald Weasley tantrums and it amused her that he still threw them with his father.

“To be honest Mr Weasley, I have no idea, other than the obvious. Frighteningly Draco put himself in charge of the arrangements. And whilst Lucius assures me everything is in hand….”

“Well here comes Young Mister Malfoy, so let’s see.”

Hermione turned to see Draco heading towards them. His blue eyes narrowing and looking suspiciously at Arthur Weasley.

Hermione spoke before Draco had the chance to.

“Is everything ready?”

Not taking his eyes off of the senior Weasley, Draco nodded. “Yup, all sorted, are you okay?”

“I am fine Draco, honestly.” She touched his arm reassuringly. “Mr Weasley is going to give me away.”

The younger wizard’s face went from one of suspicion to utter surprise.

“I don’t think it’s going to make me very popular at home, but I am all for stirring this up a bit.”

Draco looked from Mr Weasley to Hermione, and then cast a glance across the room at his no too pleased, wife and son.

“Yeah I think you could be right there.” Still looking more than a little stunned, Draco got back to the matter in hand.

“Ok Granger, my father is looking remarkably nervous in the drawing room, with Shacklebolt. Can’t think why, it’s not like you aren’t going to show up or anything.”

Hermione had to smile at Draco’s synopsis, and his total lack of understanding.

“You will understand one day my boy.” Ventured Arthur Weasley, casting an apprehensive smile in the direction of Molly.

“Where is you bridesmaid Granger? Don’t tell me….”

“That would be Matron of Honour, Mister Malfoy, and I am right here.”

Draco was suitably chastised as always by Minerva McGonagall, who re-joined the small group.

“Excellent.” Said Draco, his authority waning a tad under, his headmistress’s beady eye.

 

“You will need these, Fer… Draco.” Hermione smiled at McGonagall as she handed over the small blue pouch.

He ran his thin fingers over the velvet, realising what was inside, he tucked it safely into the pocket of his robes. “Good, okay. Right I am going to usher everyone into the drawing room, I think they will all fit, without any magic. I will get them all to remove their masks as well. Once they have all gone, give it five minutes and then you can come along.”

“How charmingly put Mister Malfoy.” Minerva shook her head testily at Draco’s ineloquent wording.

How else could he have put it? Draco muttered to himself, before clearing his throat and attempting to gain the attention of the assembled guests, for a second time. Failing miserably on this occasion. He couldn’t compete over the noise of the party, everyone still talking about the surprise announcement and that the ball had now turned into a wedding and of course the music. He placed his wand to his throat and with the use of a sonorous charm, silenced the room, once more. Asking everyone to now please join him in the drawing room. The Malfoy house elves, were dispatched to ensure the guests found their way unhindered.

Before they left the room with the other guests, Molly and Ronald Weasley spoke briefly with Arthur, neither looking any too pleased when they finally exited the ballroom to join the others. Although Hermione was certain the look Mrs Weasley cast in her direction was not _quite_ as harsh as she had expected.

Arthur said nothing when he returned to Hermione and Minerva, a look on his face that said he was fully resigned to the ear bashing Molly would no doubt give him when they got back to the Burrow and the sulky silence his son would subject him to.

Raffy returned to the ballroom a few minutes later, addressing Hermione.

“The young Master has asked me to inform you that everything is ready, and the rest of the party await your arrival.”

Typical Draco mused Hermione, she could virtually see the almost childlike, “I can do it properly look lighting his pale features. The very proper request clearly meant as a dig at McGonagall, she noted from the older witch’s face it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Are you ready Hermione?” Asked Arthur Weasley offering Hermione his dark robed arm.

“Just a moment, _Miss Granger.”_ Said as they were about to leave the ballroom. “Thought I would, just use it one last time.” McGonagall said smiling fondly at her.

The dress meant for the ball looked equally as stunning as a wedding gown. Its pale grey luminescence the colour of Lucius Malfoy’s eyes, shone almost white in the dim light of the manor. She felt the tiny strand of green silk tingle at her nape, where Lucius had loosely tied her hair with it. Joy and anticipation cartwheeled in her stomach.

Minerva McGonagall pushed an errant wisp of hair from Hermione’s face, before taking her wand from a pocket and circling it around Hermione’s head. As she whispered almost inaudibly, the tiniest pearls, shades lighter than the jewellery she wore, appeared in her hair. They were threaded onto the thinnest shreds of tulle and wove their way in between the chestnut strands, giving the illusion of a fine veil.

“Perfect.” She stood back to admire her handiwork. “You look simply beautiful my dear. Now I don’t think that Lucius Malfoy is known for his patience. So Arthur……...”

The older witch gestured for him to lead off. Hermione gripped his arm tightly. Smiling he patted her small hand with fatherly affection.

Hermione moved in an almost dreamlike state, catching sight of herself in one of the mirrors in the hallway, she was unable to believe that the bride reflected in there was her. Only another array of pale faced Malfoy ancestors, muttering in apoplexy assured her otherwise.

The long corridor lit up with more candles as they moved along it, highlighting an array of flowers, which definitely hadn’t been there earlier. Music softly permeated the air, a smile lifting her lips as Hermione recognised one of the pieces that had been playing in Lucius’ study on her second day at the manor. She couldn’t help but wonder, whose idea that been.

The doors to the drawing room swung open slowly, heralding their arrival. Strangely, Hermione’s first thought wasn’t of Lucius as she moved across the threshold on Arthur Weasley’s arm, but of Draco. Knowing how he felt about this room, the terrible memories it held for him. It seemed odd that he would choose it for the ceremony. She doubted it was the only room in the manor big enough, but it did easily fit all of the assembled guests. However, it also bore little resemblance to the room that Draco had shown her just over a week ago, beautifully decorated with flowers that matched the hallway, their scent filling the room. Also like the hallway, candles lit the room, some drifting magically about the ceiling, others sitting on various surfaces.  Hermione tried desperately to take everything in, not wanting to miss or forget a moment.

All of the guests stood as they entered the room and began to move down the centre aisle. Hermione’s brown eyes darting across them, even unmasked, she still only recognised a half a dozen or so faces.  Regret flooded her body for the briefest of moments, that all of her friends were not here to share her joy.  Realising that the rest of the Weasley clan, not to mention Ginny and Harry would probably feel the same way as Molly and Ron, she pushed it aside. Enjoying the few faces she did recognise, amongst them of course Severus Snape. The half-smile on his usually stern face, reeking more of, _I knew it,_ than happiness.

The expression on Draco’s face veered someone between, the terror of “have I got this right” to a smug self-satisfied, “haven’t I done brilliantly”. Catching Hermione’s eye, he winked at her. She couldn’t help a playful wink back, letting him know that he had done more than brilliantly. 

Finally her eyes fell on the man at Draco’s side, his father, and the man who was about to become her husband, Lucius Malfoy.

 


	26. That Would Be.........Mrs Malfoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Humble thanks as always for lovely comments and Kudos, which inspire me to continue with the story. Apologies as ever for any faux pas.
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this chapter and that it ticks everyone's boxes and comes up to expectation.......

 

 

Hermione trembled slightly, her big brown eyes once again glistening brightly with tears. As Kingsley Shacklebolt asked in his deep baritone and quietly authoritative voice:

“Do you Hermione Jean, take Lucius Abraxas……?”

Lucius beautiful grey blue eyes were also iridescent with profound emotion, holding her small hand in his, as he slipped Minerva McGonagall’s ring onto it, it magically tightening around her slender finger and looking utterly perfect against her pale skin.

The Hogwarts Headmistress herself fought her own tears as the simple gold band glinted on the hand of the new Mrs Malfoy. Avoiding a loud sniff, she furtively brushed the end of her nose on the back of her sleeve. 

The beaming and clearly delighted Minister for Magic, declaring them bonded for life and raising his wand to shower them with a confetti of twinkling stars. 

Lucius took his wife in his arms, her eyes filled with an adoration he still found almost as impossible to believe, as the fact that Hermione Granger was now, Hermione Malfoy.  Titling her chin gently he kissed her tenderly, Hermione returned his kiss with equal tenderness, her hand coming up to gently caress his cheek. Wanting everyone in the room to know just how much she loved him, hard as that might be for some people to understand.  

The antique clock in the hallway was loudly chiming the midnight hour and heralding a new year.

As well as congratulating the new Mr & Mrs Malfoy, the guests were also passing on New Year greetings. Suddenly all of the candles in the room went out, plunging the guests, virtually into complete darkness. Everyone in the room, including the bride and groom looking up. The ceiling unexpectedly glassing over, the room now lit by just a hint of bright moonlight in the clear night sky, and fireworks. Hundreds and hundreds of fireworks, their loud bangs and colourful sparks filling the midnight air.

Hermione glanced at a grinning but clearly relieved Draco.  In the short amount of time he’d had the young wizard had done an amazing job, Hermione hoped Professor Snape was taking note. The spell alone for the fireworks, would not have been an easy one to conjure and from the surprised and delighted look on his father’s face, he had not been a party to it, or had a hand in any of it.

The room inside was filled with thrilled oohs and aahs. Every head looking up towards the night sky, fingers pointing to another colourful explosion or burst of sparkles.

As the stunning display came and equally spectacular end, Hermione released herself from Lucius’ arm which was caught loosely about her waist. Moving towards her school friend, whom she hugged warmly and kissed on the cheek. Even in the semi darkness she could see the distinct blush on his pale face.

 “Steady on people will talk.”

Hermione laughed out loud. “I’ve just married Lucius Malfoy, I would think that is going to cause enough talk to last until next New Year.” She was silent for a moment before she giggled again.

“What?” Asked Draco a little bemused.

“It’s a little weird saying it out loud, makes it all very real. I feel a bit like I’ve been dreaming for the last few hours.”

Draco pinched her playfully.

“Ouch”

“Well you aren’t dreaming and that ring on your finger is very real. So is that sickly look on my father’s face.”

Hermione couldn’t resist a glance in Lucius direction. He looked so devastatingly handsome as he stood chatting to Arthur Weasley, and he did have a very, Hermione was inclined to describe it as, a besotted look on his face.  

She couldn’t stop herself from searching the room for the other Weasley’s. Ron was nowhere to be seen, but Hermione’s brown eyes finally fell upon the Molly. She was deep in conversation with Minerva McGonagall.  Her face seemed to have softened slightly and Hermione couldn’t help but notice, the almost placating hand of the Hogwarts headmistress resting on her arm.  She was shaking her head, the older witch smiling indulgently at her, those long bony fingers now clasping Molly’s more rounded ones. They both looked in the direction of Lucius, who was still talking to Arthur. As he caught his wife’s eye, Hermione noticed the Weasley patriarch smile, all be it a tad nervously at his fiery wife. Her smile was equally as guarded and faltered and diminished somewhat as her eyes moved to Lucius but it didn’t vanish entirely, for small mercies, Hermione was grateful.

She returned her attention to Draco, smacking him with the same good natured affection he had directed at her. Her face becoming serious once more.

“Can I ask you something?” She ventured quietly.

The younger Malfoy responded with his usual flippancy. “If it’s will I call you Mother, the answer is most definitely no.”

Draco was again treated to a “be serious” thwack on his arm, Hermione trying to ignore the quite frightening reality that he was in fact now, her stepson.

“Why did you pick this room for the wedding? It’s not exactly your…….. favourite.”

Draco shook his head, a small incredulous smile lifting his lips. “That was the first thing you thought of when the doors opened wasn’t it? I saw you glance in my direction.”

Hermione nodded guiltily, Draco Malfoy certainly was a lot more perceptive than she had ever given him credit for.

“Well Granger, Oh bugger I can’t call you that anymore….hmmm. Well anyway. There were two reasons. One was logistical. This room juts out from the house, so it kind of has its own roof, which thankfully made it easier for me to enchant the ceiling for the fireworks.” He paused momentarily.

“The other was to banish all the bad memories of it and my father.  Now the memories are……they are good.”

Draco found himself once more in the fervent embrace of his father’s wife. Heat burning his face.

“Oh Draco, that’s such beautiful reason, and such a lovely thing to say. I never had you down as the sentimental type.”

“I…..”Draco’s response as interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Should I be worried, that since becoming my wife Hermione, you have spent more time in the arms of my son?”

She turned to find a half serious, half smiling Lucius standing behind her.

She returned his smile, rolling her eyes at Draco: “He wasn’t appreciating being thanked or called sentimental.”

Pulling his wife close once more. Lucius regarded his son, adding his own words of thanks, the look between father and son transcending mere thanks. Still flushing and obviously embarrassed by the praise being heaped upon him, Draco excused himself. Lucius and Hermione once more watching in wry amusement, as he sort out the tall elegant figure of Nemessia Fellows amidst the other guests.

“Miss Granger, Lucius, I thought I too should add my congratulations to those already bestowed.”

“That would be Mrs Malfoy now, Severus.”  Lucius smoothly, but forcefully corrected his old friend’s, seemingly deliberate error.

The harsh black eyes of the bat like Professor glittered intensely as they fell upon Hermione.  “Of course force of habit, my apologies.” 

Snape regarded Lucius like he were about to poke a Hippogriff. Hermione looked at her Defence Against The Dark Arts Master, something telling her he was about to do precisely that, although she was sure one was a lot less dangerous than the other.

“I shall have to be careful in class, not to confuse my Malfoy’s.”

Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy had had an odd, and at times tenuous friendship. That aside they’d known each other for many years, and Severus knew the pureblood extremely well. From one of the oldest wizarding families in England, a family steeped in tradition and the old ways.  Severus Snape knew exactly the reaction his comment would provoke.

It was however Hermione who spoke: “You may address me as you wish in class Professor Snape, it will take me a little while to get used to my new name too and I wouldn’t want you to think I was being rude and ignoring you.”

Snape nodded his head in deference to her remark, not missing the look on his old friend’s face, Hermione did not miss the surprise that stiffened his body at her words, she assumed that it was perhaps at her cheek to Snape, although usually he would have found that more amusing than shocking.

Having planted his mischievous seed, Snape decided it was time to leave and he bid them goodnight.

As midnight moved into the early hours the other guests began to take their leave of Malfoy Manor. Finally leaving the newlyweds alone, save Draco, who they assumed was somewhere in the Manor, and the house elves who were snapping their bony little fingers and returning the house back to its usual pristine self.

“Would you like a nightcap my dear, or would you like to go to bed?” Lucius asked, taking her hand in his.

Hermione didn’t want this night, this day to end, she wanted to cram as much into it, as was humanly possible, but by the same token, she wanted to curl up in bed, in the arms of her husband.

“Couldn’t we do both?” She ventured.

Lucius pulled her hard against him, brushing his lips softly over hers: “What a very decadent but excellent idea Mrs Malfoy. What can I tempt you to? His grey eyes twinkled mischievously, an equally wicked smirk curling his lip. “More champagne or perhaps something a little more warming.”

Hermione was certain this man could tempt her to just about anything. Heat was already coursing through her body, anything more warming and she thought she might combust. However the idea of something less cold and fizzy appealed to her.

“Surprise me.” She suggested savouring the feel of his hardening body against her.

“Hmm that is your forte, but I shall endeavour to do my best.”

He was gone but a few moments before returning with two large brandy glasses, an equal measure in each one, but each containing a very different coloured liquid. He handed her one of the crystal balloons, and offering her his free arm, they ascended the stairs together, as man and wife.

 

“Oranges.” Hermione declared, lifting the heavy crystal glass to her nose.

“Well to be accurate”. Lucius corrected, taking a snifter from his own glass. “Mandarins. It’s a very old finely blended mandarin brandy.”

The liquid burned a fiery path down Hermione’s throat, but she savoured its delicious, sweet warmth. Glancing over the rim at the man who had a very similar effect on her as the heady spirit.

“What are you thinking?” Lucius asked, swirling his own brandy expertly around the glass that sat in the palm of his hand.

“At this very moment……..how much you and this brandy have in common.” She smiled ruefully at him taking another sip. “And what about you. Muggles offer a penny for your thoughts, I could stretch to a sickle.”

He placed his glass on the mantle of the fireplace they were standing in front of and moved towards Hermione. 

On reaching Lucius bedroom, their bedroom, they had gravitated towards the roaring fire with their drinks. They hadn’t curled up in one of the large armchairs, nor had they moved to the bed. Not stirring or even talking, they just seemed to stand. Appreciating each other’s company, relishing the peace and quiet, and enjoying their nightcaps. 

“I wouldn’t know where to start tonight, or even this morning as it were. My head is filled with so much.”

He looked at the beautiful young woman standing before him, bathed in the soft glow from the fire she practically shimmered. The lustrous silk of the dress she wore, her luminescent skin, her shiny brown hair and the glow of happiness that shone from deep within. 

He smiled suddenly, his fingers trailing slowly over the straps on the dress.

“I imagined you in this dress so many times, from the moment you opened it on Christmas morning. I imagined you gliding down the stairs to the ball, I imagined taking you in my arms and dancing with you. Never in my wildest imagination did I envisage you marrying me in it.”

Hermione too, placed her glass on the mantle, reaching for her husband, her small hands resting on his chest. Her heart beating a little faster as the gold band on her finger glittered in the firelight.

“When I put it on earlier with the beautiful jewellery, for which I neglected to say thank you for. The shoes and that exquisite mask. I thought, I don’t ever want this night to end, I still don’t. I thought, I want to wear this for as long as I can.”

She moved in Lucius’s arms. “But, I think now would be a good time to take it off.”

The smile on Lucius’ face and the look that twinkled in his eyes conveyed more than any words ever could.  A heady mixture of love and lust, it was the same potent cocktail that raced through Hermione’s veins as her turned her around. Meticulously he began to undo each and every one of the thirty five tiny buttons which secured the silk and lace of her dress.

With every delicate touch of his fingers against her skin as he slipped each from its fastening, Hermione shivered with anticipation. His lips brushed against her neck, before he freed her hair from the tiny strand of green silk. Turning her back to face him, his fingers drifted slowly up her arms to slip the thin straps from her arms. The column of silver grey silk, slid down her body, billowing at her feet and pooling like a puddle in the moonlight.  Her body shimmered, much as the dress had done. Bathed in the gentle glow of the firelight, naked save the tiny lace knickers that she still wore.

“Merlin, you are so beautiful.” Lucius whispered against her skin.

Just like the first time he had seen her like this, Hermione flushed at his words and his blatant appraisal.  She noticed a difference in his aristocratic tones, perhaps it was simply the emotion of the day or maybe it was the fact she was now his wife, they seemed laced almost with a reverence of some kind.  But that was precisely how she felt. She was no longer uncertain as to what their relationship was, perhaps just a dalliance, which would last until Lucius Malfoy moved onto the next glamourous witch. He was her husband, the man she was now bonded to for life. That knowledge sent a tidal wave of emotion through her, those wretched tears once more filling her ears, and this time spilling on to her warm rosy cheeks. 

She couldn’t be any happier if she tried. The fact that is was Lucius Malfoy who made her feel this way, evoked such love and passion within her very soul, and was still just a little unbelievable.  Everything she had ever wanted, ever dreamed about was wrapped up in the man that stood before her, Hermione would have never have thought that possible. The fact it was, made her heart feel like it was going to burst, made her stomach flutter with excitement and made the salty tears fall freely.

Lucius large hands clasped her face between them, first the soft pads of his thumbs brushed them away, then his gentle lips. Moving from one cheek to the other, his hair falling against her skin.

There was that intoxicating aroma she had grown to love so much, the spicy waft of his cologne, mixed with that ridiculously expensive shampoo and the scent that was simply Lucius himself. It made her feel safe and warm and above all else, it now it made her feel loved.  She looked deep into his grey eyes, her face still firmly held between his strong fingers. 

“I love you Lucius.” She said quietly.

It felt like the first time she had really said it to him.  The words not having been overheard, or conveyed by someone else.  But said simply and genuinely, and very much from the heart, by her.

She felt his fingers tighten, and saw the same emotion reflected in the depths of his own eyes. Just as it had been earlier during their wedding.

“I love you too Hermione, more I think that you will ever know, or I will ever be able to tell you.”

For a moment they just stood looking at each other, before Lucius swept her up in his arms and strode purposely towards the bed. 

Just as her words had felt like she’d spoken them for the first time, this too was feeling like the first time.

Lucius set her down gently on the bed, carefully removing her last piece of clothing. Hermione wanted to undress him, but found herself completely mesmerised as unhurriedly he began removing his own clothing, revealing that body, she now knew so well and wanted so much. Part of her was glad he undressed without the aid of magic, whilst the other part of her was a lot less patient.  She doubted she would ever tire of that want that he aroused in her. She loved how it aroused her on so many different levels, and in so many different ways. The need and arousal she felt now, so unlike the feelings that had rampaged through her earlier.  Whether Lucius sensed that, or it was simply what he wanted himself, he came to her as a gentle and tender lover.   

His mouth moving over hers, his kiss so soft and sweet as his tongue tangled slowly and erotically with hers, demanding nothing, but evoking so much.  His hands, always so surprisingly soft, ghosting over her sensitised skin, a thigh, an arm, a breast, touching every nerve ending, and heightening her absolute need for him. His body covering hers, his weight upon her in a need as crushing as her own. He filled her so completely, so perfectly, Hermione’s body reacting to his every touch, his every movement with a sweetness of her own.

This was one of the most perfect moments Lucius had ever know in his entire life. He had spent the last few nights with this amazing young woman, his wife. But nothing compared to this, everything before this paled, however good it had been, however gratifying it had been, the simple act of making love to his beautiful young wife was beyond sublime.  Her exquisite reactions to him, the joy on her beautiful face, the words of love that fell from her mouth as his own love for her poured into her welcoming body, left Lucius Malfoy feeling as he had never done before.

 


	27. The Devil's Advocate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So a New Year and married life begins........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual housekeeping applies, thanks and apologies etc.........

 

Their New Year’s Day began in earnest, very much as it had ended. It was almost lunchtime before Hermione and Lucius ventured from the bliss and warmth of their bed and left the room. Had it not been for the fact they were both hungry, they would have stayed longer. Lucius had suggested they get the house elves to bring them breakfast in bed, the idea had its merits but after falling into each other’s arms yet again, Hermione decided she wanted to cook.

After the delicious meal she had made for him on Boxing Day and the delightful afternoon that had ensued, Lucius decided he was not going to argue.

Lucius couldn’t fail to miss the very Malfoyesque smirk which curled Hermione’s lips as they walked past the rows of his pale faced ancestors. Suddenly realising that, if they were not averse to bestowing their unwelcome opinions on him, Hermione would most certainly not have escaped their condescension. He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her into his hard embrace. Flush against the length of his body, his mouth devouring hers in a deep, loving, and very long kiss.  Gasps of disapproval reaching his ears, as he finally lifted his lips from hers.

Hermione looked at him in surprise. Her brown eyes bright with joy, her lips swollen from yet another passionate kiss from her husband. Wondering if perhaps they should have stayed in bed after all.

“What was that for?” She asked, not of course minding such sudden or ardent displays of affection.

Lucius smiled, turning to look at the grim faced portraits hanging on the walls.  

“Isn’t a man allowed to kiss his _wife,_ when he feels like it?”

This time the muttering from the disparaging ancestors was loud enough for them both to hear, and a furious Lucius rounded on them. His aristocratic tones more clipped and severe than usual. His eyes glinting with fury, his nostrils flaring.

“I thought as much. That you were disrespectful to me was bad enough, that you have obviously shown discourtesy to a guest in this house is unforgivable, but I will not tolerate either of those if shown to my wife. Do I make myself clear?”

Hermione shuddered at his tone and the cold look that clouded his grey eyes. That silence that befell the air was affirmation enough.

“Good.” Lucius’s voice was still clipped and angry, but softened as he spoke to Hermione. “Now about this breakfast you promised me.”

“More like lunch.” Came a particularly cheerful voice from behind them.

“Oh excuse me, and how long have you been up exactly?”

It was Hermione who addressed the cheek of the younger Malfoy as he rested against the bannister. Seeing a frighteningly wicked and familiar glint in his blue eyes, she stopped his response in its tracks.

“Forget that, I don’t want to know.”

Draco smiled, she knew him far too well.

“So are you making breakfast for everyone or just my father?

“By everyone, does that just mean you Draco?”

Hermione was struggling to contain her laughter at Lucius’ remark, as Draco’s face coloured.

“Oh I think I could manage to pour another bowl of cereal or _two_ if needs be.” Hermione couldn’t resist following Lucius, and teasing Draco just a little bit. He’d done his fair share over the last few days and it was nice to get her own back at last. His face reddened even more as he bounded past his father and Hermione on the stairs.

“Well, if it’s just cereal I don’t think ……..”

“Eggs, bacon, tomatoes…………..shall I go on?”

She and Lucius laughed as his son stopped just short of the bottom stair.

“Sausage and mushrooms?” Draco queried hopefully, turning to face them.

“But of course. Hardly a proper breakfaster otherwise is it Ferret”.  She caught up with him and slipped her arm through his.

She could feel Lucius’ warm hand on the base of her spine as she guided Draco into the kitchen.

Raffy was already in the kitchen, once again looking mortified that the family were intending to eat in there. He asked the Mistress if she needed something or if he could do anything to help, it took a moment or two for Hermione to realise he was addressing to her.  The poor creature thinking he had done something to offend her when she didn’t respond. Not wishing to upset him any further, she graciously asked him to make the tea.

Task done, he returned once more in search of a job, clearly feeling a little redundant and uncomfortable, that Hermione had commandeered his kitchen yet again.  Truthfully, Hermione was glad of his help, she felt a little tired from yesterday, and this morning, and didn’t feel like running all over the vast kitchen the Manor boasted.  The little elf, scuttled about and clicked his long gnarled fingers. Providing all of the items the new mistress requested.  He was however, completely horrified, when she paled visibly, recoiling from the pan in which the chunky sausages were crackling away.

“Urgh, I think these might be off!” Hermione exclaimed, her hand flying to her nose and mouth, nausea paling her.

The wide eyed elf cast a terrified glance in the direction of The Master, who was pushing back his chair at the sight of Hermione’s discomfort.  Unsure of the best course of action he put his bony fingers into the scalding hot fat to remove the offending items and to inflict pain upon himself for his obvious error. 

 “Raffy No!” Hermione squealed.

Everything else instantly forgotten, as she grabbed his small thin wrist, pulling it quickly back from the scalding oil.

“Don’t be silly, it’s not your fault.”

The Elf’s green eyes widened yet further, looking as if they were about to pop from his small head, as Lucius loomed over them.  His eyes narrowing at the terrified creature, but softening and glittering with a cross between surprise and amusement as he was promptly banished back to the table, Hermione telling him everything was under control.

She returned to her cooking, the sausages now smelling exactly as they should, although actually no different from before. A glass or two of champagne the previous day and a late night brandy clearly more than she was used to and making her a little more sensitive to smell this morning, or rather this afternoon as it now was. 

The cooking accomplished without any further incidents, Hermione dished food up onto plates. Raffy made more tea and eventually the three of them sat down to eat, what had turned into brunch. All three of them eating heartily and in a companionable silence.  

“I think I need to go back to sleep now.” Draco said.

Hermione watching is amusement, as much to Lucius’ horror, his son mopped his plate with the last remaining slice of toast. 

“Granger you make a mean breakfast. I……” He caught his father’s raised eyebrow.

Remembering his conversation yesterday with his school friend and thinking he would have to find a new nickname for her. Well he could hardly call her Malfoy could he?

“It would appear Draco that finally, you have to legitimately refrain from calling Hermione, Granger.”

Draco screwed up his face, running his thin fingers thoughtfully through his blonde hair. Obviously the younger wizard was not keen on relinquishing a pet name for her just yet.  He was sorely tempted to tell her he intended on calling her Mother at school, but he doubted his father would see the funny side of that, so he decided to keep it to himself.

“Well I think I will stick to calling you Granger when we are back at school, life is going to be confusing enough when Snape, McGonagall or one of the other Professors hollers Malfoy across a classroom or down a corridor.”

The two of them laughing at the notion.

“Yes but unlike you Ferret, I don’t get yelled at that often anywhere. So I doubt there will be any confusion as to who is about to get the wrath of Snape or detention.”

Lucius wasn’t sure how he felt about the banter going on across the kitchen table between his wife and son. He felt more like both of their fathers at this particular moment in time. Biting his tongue at and resisting the urge to say “children please!” His head spinning just a little bit.

It also reminded him of the tetchy subject of Hermione’s return to school.  Quite simply because until Severus Snape had, he was sure, knowingly dropped in into the conversation yesterday, Lucius hadn’t really given it much thought. Well that wasn’t strictly true, he had thought about it, but for some reason he’d felt certain that Hermione wouldn’t return to Hogwarts after the holidays, not now, she had no reason to. Thinking about, all be it, very briefly this morning, he began to realise he had been very foolish to assume that would be the case. Listening to the rather childish conversation that was still being played out over the table, it was clearer than ever, that the day after tomorrow his son and his wife, would indeed _both_ return to school. 

Lucius was even less sure how he truly felt about that, perhaps he should mention it, perhaps she didn’t know how he felt. The fact he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt didn’t exactly help. Deciding as always, with Hermione, frankness and honesty were the best policy, Lucius just came out and asked the question:

“Are you sure you want to return to school Hermione?”

It was the look on his son’s face, which alerted Lucius to the fact that in this instance, directness might not have been the best course of action. He might also have opted to have this conversation when it was just the two of them.

Hermione didn’t have a fiery temper, yes, she was feisty and she spoke her mind.  But in truth she was more confused at Lucius’s question than angry and if she admitted it, a little hurt.  She found the confusion and the hurt swallowing her up.  Draco looked decidedly uncomfortable, as she rose from the table.

“Yes Lucius I am.” Her voice almost cracked, as she spoke. Thinking that despite their relatively short re-acquaintance, he would know her better than to ask that.

Casting a quick look at Draco, she excused herself from the kitchen.

Lucius looked at his son, his discomfort gone, he was now viewing his father with a somewhat incredulous look.

“I should go after her.”

His chair scrapping across the stone floor, Lucius too began to rise from the table.

“Leave her.” Draco heard his own voice in the deathly silence of the kitchen, practically command his father and he swallowed hard.

The chair stopped mid scrape and Lucius remained seated. His pale face far from happy.

Draco looked directly at his father, knowing he was perhaps pushing his luck just a little bit. He had never played Devil’s advocate in his life and especially not with his father. Giving him advice on how to deal with his wife, wasn’t exactly his best idea. But then Hermione was his friend, they had spent more time together and in many ways he probably understood the young witch a lot better than his father.

“It’s been an emotional time for her all of it. Coming back here, you, the wedding, and people’s reactions to it.”

Draco paused, watching his father’s response. He hadn’t reached for his wand and silenced him that was something. Nor could he see any sign of anger in his pale grey eyes. Just confusion and if he wasn’t mistaken, hurt. Which if he knew Hermione at all, was exactly how she was feeling at his father’s question.

Draco struggled with his words, they weren’t his forte at the best of times.  Hermione for the most part understood his sometimes ham fisted attempts at saying what he meant, he wasn’t sure his father possessed the same skill.

 “Gran…..Hermione, probably hadn’t even thought about returning to school and the implications, not until you asked the question. You caught her off guard.”

Oh bugger, this was much harder than he thought. He knew what he meant, but conveying it to his father, without making the situation worse or getting him to understand what he was trying to say was another matter. Of all the things Draco wished he’d inherited from his father his articulacy would be good right now.

“Until yesterday, you two were just ….”

Draco had to be grown up about this, with Hermione it was easy, and they could still be childish with each other. They could stop short in a sentence, when it got a little embarrassing or smutty even, the other would simply fill in the blanks.

“Until yesterday, you two were just having a fling.” He saw his father’s face harden.

“Were just lovers, I don’t know, however you want me to put it……” Draco was getting a little exasperated.  This was difficult enough without, Lucius unspoken objections his choice of words.

“So going back to school, was like …..like a holiday romance coming to an end. You would miss each other, maybe hate the idea of separation. But you’d owl each other, perhaps meet up in Hogsmeade, it was never anything serious.”

Lucius eyebrow rose further, his mouth was set in a thin line and his nostrils flared. But Draco persevered, determined to make his father understand.

“Like I said, Hermione would never even have thought about _not_ returning to school because of it. But that all changed yesterday. You married her, which moved the Quidditch posts considerably.  It gave her, an option, an option she hadn’t even considered before. Not to return to school and stay here with you. Now she probably feels torn between her feelings for you and doing what she knows you want and doing what she wants, what she had set out to do.”

Lucius regarded his son, he understood exactly what he was trying to say. The only thing he was uncertain about was, when precisely did his son become so wise and understanding of women. What it really boiled down to was, he understood his friend, and he knew her. Clearly a lot better than Lucius knew his young wife.

“Thank you Draco.” Lucius said his voice quiet, his words sincere.

Despite, the fact he had just upset Hermione, Lucius felt an odd sense of euphoria at the closeness he now had with his son. Pride coursed through his veins at the young man he had become. Joy lit his face, at the fact that he could talk to him like an adult, like a man.

“It guess there are advantages to having your wife at school with your son.” A small smile lifted his lips.

Draco was still a little taken aback from the heartfelt thanks Lucius has just given him, but he too had to smile at his father’s words.  Watching as he finally rose slowly from the table.

“Take her a cup of tea.” Draco suggested.

Lucius looked questioningly at his son. “Tea?”

“Well chocolates and flowers might be a tad over the top, but I think a nice hot cup of tea will be a good start.”

“I will take your obviously, expert, word for it.” And with that Lucius summoned Raffy.

The scruffy elf appeared momentarily with a small pop, nervously regarding his master, no doubt certain he was still in trouble from the sausage incident earlier. Clearly relieved at the master’s request for tea, and making it instantly.

Lucius looked at the tea and at his son. Malfoy Manor was a very large house, and he was uncertain where Hermione might have fled to. Possibly to, what was her bedroom, maybe she’d gone outside for some fresh air. Despite the still thick snow, it was a lovely sunny day. She’d clearly wanted to get away from him, so he ruled out either their bedroom or the study.

“Library.” Draco said ruefully, stifling a yawn and watching his father leave the kitchen, the small delicate china cup clasped in his large hand.

 

Lucius did indeed find Hermione in the library. She was curled up in one of the large armchairs, her legs tucked under her, her arms tightly wrapped around herself.  She was staring into the crackling flames of the hearth, her face pink from the heat, her eyes a little puffy and red. The copious tears she had shed the previous day, had, she assured him all been tears of joy. Today he knew that wasn’t the case and it was unwittingly his fault. The notion stabbed at him, hurting him more than anything had done in many a long year.

He stroked her hair gently, those big brown eyes looking at him, still with such love but saddened by tears. His heart lurched.

“Is that for me?” She asked quietly pointing to the delicate white china in his hand.

Unable to speak Lucius nodded, handing her the cup.

She took a sip, those big honey brown eyes, once more meeting his, uncertain grey.

“Thank you.” A timid smile tugging at her lips. “I’m sorry…..I.”

Lucius dropped to the floor, his hands in Hermione’s lap. “Don’t, it’s I who should be apologising. I should have thought before I spoke…I”

Resting the cup on the arm of the chair, Hermione took his large hands in her small ones.

“And so should I. I totally overreacted. It just suddenly occurred to me that I.” Her hands tightening around his.  “I will be going back to school, the day after tomorrow and much as I want to, I want to stay here with you too. And now that’s a choice I have to make.”

The smile on Lucius’ face was not what she had anticipated at all, it was beautiful but totally unexpected.

“My son knows you very well. I think I am jealous.”

Hermione gave a weak laugh: “We might have only been friends for the last few months, but we’ve known each other for ten years, and even as enemies you get to know each other.”

“I think there is a quote about knowing your friends, but knowing your enemies better.” Lucius stroked his finger gently over Hermione’s. “I cannot make the decision for you my sweet, you must do what you wish.”

The weak laughter turned into a strong smile at his term of endearment.

“Much has changed about me, about my life, my beliefs. The fact that you are my wife is testament to that.”

A wry twinkle lit his eyes. “I am sure Hermione Granger would not have married the Lucius Malfoy of old…..”

“And I am certain that the Lucius Malfoy of old would not have married a Mudblood.” Hermione interrupted, stroking his lustrous blonde hair. His eyes falling at the derogatory and shameful term he had once used.

She put her finger under his chin lifting his face to look at her once more.

“Of course I want you here with me, but that would be selfish, I am not here all of the time. The days of the Malfoy women spending all of their time at the Manor doing nothing are long gone, even if the ancestors do disapprove.” He leant his face into the warm touch of her hand as she placed it against his cheek.

“Of course it would be wonderful to find you here waiting for me every night, maybe that will happen one day. But I understand that you want to finish your schooling. As I said to you before, double standards is not something you can accuse me of, and having practically forced my own son to return to school to finish his exams, that really would be a double standard of the highest order.”

Hermione’s brown eyes shone once more with tears, but once again they were joyous. Such heartfelt words from a man she once thought didn’t even have a heart.  Her own heart was racing almost as fast as her brain.

“It’s not so long to wait before my exams are finished, then I will be here waiting for you every night. How does that sound?”

Pulling her forward in the chair, he brushed his lips over hers “I think that sounds perfect, Mrs Malfoy. And whatever you need in the meantime, I will be there for you.”

Hermione slid from the chair into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck she kissed him long and hard. She was definitely going to miss this when she returned to Hogwarts, best make the most of him whilst she still could!


	28. Back To School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco return to Hogwarts..........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks etc for comments and kudos. Apologies for whatever I have cocked up :-) and I hope you enjoy this little interlude chapter......

 

The ninety minute train journey from Wiltshire to London, seemed endless but at the same time seemed to speed by.

Lucius was going to say goodbye to Hermione at the Manor, she seemed happy enough to be returning to Hogwarts but he had a feeling that some of it was bravado and the façade might fade a little when it came to saying goodbye. An urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic had changed his plans, he was needed for a meeting later in the morning, and so the easiest thing to do, logistically at least, was to travel into town with his wife and son.

By the time the small train arrived at Kings Cross, Hermione certainly looked like a Malfoy, her usual rosy cheeks more than a little pale. Her bright honey brown eyes, looking tired and more than a little sad. The smile she wore did nothing to hide any of this from Lucius, he too wearing a smile that didn’t quite reach his pale grey eyes. He kissed her tenderly but passionately before moving through the barrier onto the main concourse, the most unusual public display of affection from the dark wizard turning many heads and causing more than a few whispers. 

She had finally joined Draco on the Hogwarts Express just before 11am when the train departed for Scotland. He had managed to get them a carriage to themselves, Hermione didn’t ask how, but she had a feeling nothing good was involved, she was thankful none the less. For a while they sat in silence, Hermione gazing aimlessly out of the window, with Draco pretending to read a copy of the Daily Prophet. It was only as the Honeydukes Express trolley came around that they spoke to each other.

“Would you like something Granger, you look like you could do with something sweet.”

Hermione shook her head, she really was looking forward to returning to school, but the thought of not seeing Lucius every day, of waking up in her small dormitory bed instead of wrapped in his warm embrace was making her feel physically sick. She knew she had snap out of it, she had made her decision to return to Hogwarts, twice now and she knew it was the right thing to do. She also knew if she’d stayed at Malfoy Manor she would be feeling equally as bad about not going back to school. 

Draco had brought himself a bag of jelly slugs and was busy opening the bag.

“So Ferret, a Malfoy in Gryffindor, who’d have thought.”

Draco bit the head of a poor unsuspecting jelly slug. “Perhaps we could keep it quiet.” He suggested chewing hard on the confectionery.

Hermione laughed, that might be difficult, other than the fact Minerva McGonagall was my Matron of Honour, I would imagine more than one person has read Rita Skeeter’s poisonous column this morning.

“I am sure my father will have something to say about that.”

Hermione laughed again, more heartily this time, the colour returning to her cheeks. Draco’s words reminding her of the hateful little boy she had grown up with, always threatening everyone with the wrath of Lucius Malfoy. Believing that this was the same boy was almost as hard to believe that she were returning to her school as a Malfoy.

“What? What did I say?”

Hermione’s amusement had gone completely over his blonde head, A blonde head, she mused that was looking more like his father’s every day, as he continued to let his hair grow.

“When you say things like that, it just reminds me of when we were first at Hogwarts, and it was always _my father will hear about this, or you wait till my father hears about this.”_

“Hey I can still say it you know Granger.” He chomped the remainder of his slug before tucking the bag away in his pocket.

“So I guess I will always be Granger to you then Ferret.”

“As long as I am Ferret you will be. Do you mind?”

“No of course not.  Not sure I’d answer to anything else after all this time. It’s hard enough remembering that the house elves are talking to me when they say Mistress. I think I might stay Granger at school, it might be simpler. I’ll talk to McGonagall when we arrive.”

“Is this a good time for me to say _my father will hear about this.”_ He teased.

Remembering how Lucius had corrected Snape after their wedding, Draco might have a point. She loved the fact that she was Mrs Malfoy, but getting her head around that as well as everything else she had to contend with this term, remaining Granger might just make life a little bit easier and she was all for that. She would see what Minerva McGonagall thought.

By the time she and Draco arrived at Hogwarts, Hermione was utterly exhausted. Two train journeys, coupled with the mental stress of the day had left her feeling drained. So much for a Christmas break, she felt like it should be the end of term not the start. The conversation with the Headmistress, could wait until tomorrow, she was even too tired to eat. Much to Draco’s consternation, telling him she was going to grab a shower and just crawl into bed.

Hermione didn’t linger in the shower, finding it just reminded her of Lucius and how much she missed him, and after only a few hours.  She shuffled dejectedly back into her dormitory, she would have to snap out of this if she was to have any chance of passing her exams. Tonight she would wallow, tomorrow she would knuckle down. Tonight she was Hermione Malfoy, missing her husband. Tomorrow should would be Hermione Granger swat extraordinaire.  

The fire in her dormitory was blazing and Hermione thought perhaps she would read for a little while, before actually climbing into bed.    She noticed a tray of sandwiches had appeared on the small table, along with a glass of chilled pumpkin juice, she wondered who she had to thank for them, either Minerva McGonagall or Draco she mused, quite possibly both. But thankfully both had left her in peace, not lecturing her about missing meals or moping around. She had to admit they were most welcome, but she would unpack her small case first, before finally curling up in front of the fire with a book. 

She took out all of the items she had slipped into the enchanted bag and put them away, sending the small selection of items to their respective homes around the room.  About to stow it away under her bed until Easter, Hermione discovered there was something else at the bottom of the bag. An oddly shaped package tied with a very familiar strand of green silk. Slid under the securing bow was a piece of parchment with some equally familiar handwriting on it.  For a moment Hermione just stood looking at it. A ridiculous joy spreading through her body before she had even read it. Slipping the paper from the parcel, she opened it……

_“I know what a cold place Hogwarts can be, I thought you might need an extra jumper. Oh and a little something to remind you of your favourite room. I miss you already L”_

Hermione was as intrigued as she was thrilled at Lucius’ romantic gesture. Tugging at the tiny strand of green silk, which tingled at her touch. Smiling she tied it loosely around her throat where it tingled once more. The charm that had been placed on it still very much in evidence.  She had Lucius’ ring on her finger, but this gave her a special feeling of his protection. The paper on the parcel fell open. Inside was a black cashmere sweater and a small heart shaped box, not a jewellery box it was too big.  Opening the lid she discovered it was completely empty. The gentle sound of music drifted into the air. Hermione’s smile widened as she recognised the music that played in Lucius’ study, moving her hand over the soft fabric lining it changed to another favourite tune. Hermione realised that if she moved her hand back and forth over the small box the tunes changed, if she moved them up and down the volume increased or decreased.

What a wonderful, thoughtful gift. She left the lid open allowing the beautiful sound of Core Ngrato to fill her room and picked up the soft sweater. It was Lucius’ sweater, the one he had been wearing that same afternoon they had been snuggled up in his study. She held it close to her, his scent engulfing her. She instinctively knew that the scent wouldn’t fade, whether she was wearing it or simply holding it.  Hermione slipped it over her head, revelling in its softness and its fragrance. For the first time today she felt relaxed and happy, it was as if she were wrapped in Lucius’ arms.  Curling up in her chair, she munched on a sandwich, washing it down with the still chilled pumpkin juice.

Fatigue finally overcoming her. The melodic music her husband loved so much unobtrusively filling the air, as she drifted off to sleep, the deep comforting scent of the husband she loved so much, filling her nostrils.

 

Still missing waking up in the arms of her husband but none the less feeling a lot more refreshed, with her mind ready for herbology, Hermione put on her school uniform. It seemed an age she had worn it, instead of a few short weeks. So much had happened since she has taken it off, she still found most of it hard to believe. 

With the tiny strand of green silk securing her hair, Hermione went in search of the Headmistress and the conversation she had put off the previous evening.

“Of course Hermione, whatever you feel is best. From a personal perspective it will save this old brain an awful lot of confusion.”

Hermione raised a speculative brow, there was nothing wrong with Minerva McGonagall’s brain, old or not, the younger witch wishing she was half as sharp as the formidable Scot.

“As well as being a married woman, being a senior here at Hogwarts, and one who has done so much for our school and way of life. I consider you a friend and that comes with a few privileges of its own. So if there is anything I can do or that you need, you only have to ask.”

Her green eyes twinkled as she walked Hermione to the door.

The raised brows being replaced by a warm smile, knowing that being Mrs Lucius Malfoy and the wife of the chair of the school Governors, clearly had its advantages, but being classed as a friend of McGonagall’s was rather special. She couldn’t resist hugging the older woman, before leaving her office and going in search of Draco.

He greeted her with a wry crumb laden smile, munching on a piece of toast as she slid in next to him.

“Excellent timing Granger. Want some?” He gestured the plate in front of him.

“Cheers, Ferret.”

Hermione took a slice, feeling more than a little peckish, a couple of sandwiches, didn’t exactly make up for the dinner she had missed last night.

“I just spoke to McGonagall, she says she happy to comply with whatever I want.”

Draco laughed though his munching. “I bet she is, the Malfoy name does still carry a little weight you know, and of course my father is a school Governor.”

“Hmmm you and I thinking the same things Ferret that is a little scary……She”

Hermione was interrupted by the arrival of the post. Two very familiar owls headed in their direction and she had the distinct feeling of déjà vu. The large noble bird, was carrying two notes, it gave one to Draco, who looked more than a little surprised. Other than important news, Lucius rarely wrote to his son. The other was of course for Hermione who blushed furiously, noticing an instant rise in chatter and the noise level around them. The other was the white owl, so like Hedwig. Hermione glanced at the note then back at Draco.

“I don’t suppose this will be anything congratulatory or filled with good wishes.”

“Does it matter?” Asked the young blonde.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders: “Not really, I suppose it would have just been nice to know that at least one of my friends was happy for me.”

“They are.” Draco responded, opening his own owl carefully, as if it were a howler or about to explode.

Hermione gave him a questioning look. Ronald Weasley certainly hadn’t been happy for her, not in any sense of the word. And whilst Mr Weasley and McGonagall were pleased enough, they were hardly her old school friends.

“I am really pleased for you. If I count that is.”

Hermione found herself shocked at his words, for more reasons than one. She knew he hadn’t minded her marrying his father, but it was the first time he’d expressed his approval outright, or quite so openly. The fact that he thought his opinion might not count, or that perhaps he wasn’t so readily included amongst her friends, both shocked and hurt her.

“Of course you opinion counts Draco. Quite probably more than anyone else’s.”

 His blues eyes widened at her words, a bashful look colouring and settling on his face.

“I told your father, I would only marry him if you approved. It wasn’t a hollow threat Draco. I meant it.”

She covered his hand with her own to enforce her words. Suddenly aware that several pairs of eyes had fallen on them, she didn’t remove it. Hermione was way beyond caring what people said or thought. That included Harry, the irony of it was, Draco was possibly her closest friend now. Ron had made his feelings abundantly clear and no doubt, Harry and maybe even Ginny shared his feelings. The unopened letter would only serve to reiterate that.

“You better open it.” Draco advised, obviously avoiding her revelation.

She looked at the owl from Harry, the one from Lucius could wait. She wanted to read it when she was alone and it would give her something to look forward to, especially with Defence Against the Dark Arts, the last lesson of the day.

“Together.” She suggested to Draco as he toyed nervously with his own note.

 

He laughed, nodding his head as they opened their respective owls, with it would appear, equal trepidation.

Whilst Hermione’s face fell as she read hers, Draco’s seemed to be etched with yet more surprise. He was the first to finish, looking at Hermione expectantly as he squirrelled the parchment away in his pocket. Odd thought Hermione, finally looking at him. Notes from Lucius, she recalled, usually ended up as a pile of ash. She pushed her note in his direction.

“He might just as well have sent me a howler. I hardly expected hearts and flowers but……well, Ginny sends her love at the end, rather amusing I thought.”

“Are you sure?” Draco asked, picking up the parchment.

“Of course.” She sat in silence watching him read. Toying with the gold band on her finger, she watched his anger rise.

“Charming, Potter.” He said finally, his thin lip curling in disgust as he all but spat Harry’s name.

“And he has the cheek to call himself your friend. Are you going to meet him?  I’d tell him to go……”

Hermione stopped him mid flow, knowing exactly where his words were heading and not exactly suitable for the group of clearly intrigued first years, sitting behind them.

“It would be childish not to I suppose. If he wants to travel all this way to give me his seal of disapproval, I guess that’s up to him. But why should I subject myself to that? Come on Ferret, we’ll be later for herbology, we don’t want Professor Sprout setting the mandrakes on us.”

Draco didn’t push it any further, jumping up to accompany Hermione to the greenhouses.  He could see she was hurt by Potter’s words, even if she said it didn’t matter.

He thought about the owl he’d received from his father. He felt like sending it on to Potter with a few choice words of his own added, like. “Does this sound like a man who doesn’t care? A man who is using your so called friend for his own gains, to give himself credibility?” Potter knew nothing about his father or his feelings and clearly he knew even less about his friend.  Draco was spitting fire like a horntail. He was used to Potter being derisory about his father, he’d never know him be anything else. But to be so harsh on Granger.  He found his concentration severely waning during Professor Sprout’s lesson, which considering his grades in herbology, wasn’t a good thing.  He doubted Granger’s was much better, she hardly partook in the lesson, and spent most of the time either twiddling her wedding band, or stroking the tiny strand of green silk that he noticed held her hair in place.

 

Draco had Quidditch practice that evening, so Hermione was able to slip off back to her room without further inquisition on what she intended to do about Harry.  Much like the previous evening, she showered, slipped on Lucius cashmere jumper and curled up in front of the blazing fire. The little heart shaped box, once more filling her dormitory with music as she read finally read his owl.

“ _I am not going to tell you how much I am missing you, because I am sure you feel the same.  All you need to know is how much I love you and that I am only ever an owl away. Never be afraid to ask, I will always be there for you.”_

Hermione read the note over and over again. She had only seen him yesterday morning, but already it seemed like forever ago. She reached for her quill and wrote a simple reply.

“ _I think I miss you more! You don’t need a written invitation……I am always here for you.”_

Putting on her coat, she wandered over the owlery.

 

“Hermione……..Hermione.”

She heard the deep rumbling voice calling her, and hated being rude, but after Harry’s owl, she really couldn’t take any more criticism or harsh words. Hermione pulled her coat around her and continued to walk back to the castle.

“Hermione.”

The ground practically shook beneath her feet as in a few faster, larger steps Hagrid caught her up.

“Hermione. Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

Turning she looked up to face the beaming half giant.

“Sorry Hagrid……I, I was miles away, I didn’t hear you.”

Hermione assumed the fact that he was still speaking to her, news of her marriage hadn’t reached him.

“I thought you might be ignoring me.”

Even in the darkness Hermione could see his ruddy face was suddenly downcast at the prospect.

“I think it’s more likely to be the other way around Hagrid.” Pulling her coat tighter Hermione shivered.

The gentle giant of a man smiled ruefully at her. “You might be a Malfoy now, but you are still Hermione, and I hope it won’t stop you sharing a cup of tea with your old friend.”

A huge smile lit her face: “Oh Hagrid I would love to.”

They walked back to Hagrid’s Hut. Fang, his now ancient boarhound snored loudly in his oversized basket. Just about managing to open an eye as his master returned. Hermione crouched down beside him, stroking his large, soft head. She had missed them both, she had missed this.

Hagrid made the tea and placing a large red spotted cup on the table along with a plate of rock cakes, he filled it with the steaming brew. Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if the cakes had improved, taking a small bite she discovered they were still very much rock cakes in every sense of the word, but she persevered gamely.

“So why did you think I wouldn’t want to talk to you Hermione?”

“None of my other friends want to, Ron made his feelings very clear when he was at the Manor and I got a really nasty letter from Harry. I thought, well I thought you would feel the same.”

She looked into Hagrid’s kindly bearded face, his own mass of wild untamed hair resting on his huge broad shoulders. She remembered all of the times she’d sat in the very spot with Ron and Harry.

“Hermione, I remember the day you and Harry brought Ron here after he’d tried to curse the young Malfoy for calling you a Mudblood.  I remember it like it was yesterday.”

His big fat fingers curled around the spotty cup as he enjoyed the warming brew. His soft gentle eyes hardening.

“I remember that too, and the slugs.” She shuddered at the recollection, her stomach lurching.

“Malfoy Senior was here when Cornelius Fudge came to take me to Azkaban, the day they suspended Professor Dumbledore. I wanted to boot his blonde, pureblood arse out of my house, ‘scuse my choice of words. Things have changed a bit since then. Professor McGonagall keeps me up to date with all the gossip, we have tea from time to time, her shortbread is much better than my rock cakes.”

He glanced at the partially nibbled cake in front of Hermione and smiled.

“Like Professor Dumbledore before her, I know she knows what’s what. But I don’t just take people’s word for stuff. When she told me Lucius Malfoy had changed, I was as cynical as the next wizard, but you only have to look at the school to know every word is true. And he insisted that my hut be rebuilt and that I should remain here as gamekeeper. So I speak as I find.”

He smiled affectionately at Hermione, making her feel she was still twelve years old.

“Hermione are you happy?”

She returned his warm smile. “Yes.” she said simply.

“Then that’s all that matters, you don’t put any stock in what other people say, even if they are your friends. They are entitled to their opinions but it is your life. If Lucius Malfoy makes you happy then that’s all there is to it. But if he ever makes you unhappy, I will have something to say about it.”

Hermione jumped from her seat flinging her arms around Hagrid’s neck, they didn’t quite meet, but she hugged him tightly.

“Harry was right about something, Hogwarts isn’t Hogwarts without you Hagrid. Everything feels so much better now.”

The giant of a man chuckled, his laughter rumbling through Hermione.

“Come on Mrs Malfoy, I don’t want to get in trouble with the Headmistress for keeping you out late or worse still that husband of yours. I will walk you back to the castle.”

Hermione patted Fang on the head, his large eye opened slowly again, before dropping back down and resuming his loud snoring.  Hagrid pulled on his moleskin coat and they made their way back to the school.

Hermione felt content with her decision to return to school. Even if she did miss Lucius like crazy, in more ways than one.

 


	29. The Potions Classroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the new Mrs Malfoy is missing her husband ............

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad you are all still here, my usual request for forgiveness along with continued thanks.

Every time Hermione woke up, she missed Lucius. She missed how the bed dipped next to her under his weight or how she was wrapped around him in a chair or on the sofa. She missed the intoxicating scent of him, despite having taken to sleeping on his cashmere sweater. She missed finding a heavy arm pinning her to the bed. As the week wore on she began to miss his physical presence more and more. It was only Wednesday evening, after only three days her body was physically aching for his touch. Everything that came into contact with her skin, sharpening her need for him. She had even taken matters into her own hands, it didn’t help. It wasn’t Lucius’ hands, his skilled caress, it simply made her desire for him stronger. She needed him. Her frustration was making her cranky and short tempered, it was also interfering with her concentration. Something which Draco noticed during their study period on Thursday morning.   
“What?” She had snapped at him, when he had asked her the same question for a third time.   
“Sorry Ferret, my head is all over the place today. I just don’t seem to be able to concentrate.” She admitted somewhat sheepishly.  
“Awe missing my father.” He teased.  
Given her current mood, Draco didn’t get the wrath he was expecting, instead she went bright red, and shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Hermione went silently back to her book.   
Draco bit his lip trying to hide the huge grin that was threatening to split his face. Of course she was missing his father, it wasn’t all she was missing. Normally he would have teased her mercilessly, but given the tough week she’d had and the letter she had from Potter, Draco thought better of it. Tomorrow was Friday, but he wasn’t sure that a weekend with nothing to take her mind of her obvious frustration, was going to help very much.   
Advanced Potions was their last lesson before the weekend started. Professor Slughorn, who had returned yet again after the last master left, had set a rather complicated paper for homework. Draco had groaned but Hermione relished the task, it would hopefully take her mind off of “things”.   
Taking full advantage of the situation, and it would appear, Hermione, Draco, had asked her if she wouldn’t mind grabbing the notes, as there was something he needed to do. He had mysteriously vanished, leaving Hermione to copy down the vast and detailed notes. She had a sneaking suspicion Draco was heading off for one of his rendezvous with Nemessia Fellows, for which she was ridiculously jealous and didn’t blame him in the least. She had hoped she might see Lucius, but he hadn’t said anything in his owl earlier, other than that he had some business to attend to and of course how much he was missing her. Perhaps she should have been less cryptic in her own messages and just told him that she wanted to see him, needed him. Heat suffusing her body at just how much she wanted and needed him.   
Gazing aimlessly at the note laden blackboard, Hermione thought perhaps she would go into Hogsmeade with Draco tomorrow. Surely there would be something in Paradise Glossed that would help with her current predicament. She’d glanced at some of the toys and potions they had on display when she’d been in there the last time. Wondering what possible need anyone could have for such things. She was beginning to understand that need all too well, and how it wanted quenching. Scribbling down the last of the notes, she closed her book and left the potions classroom.   
Not realising just how late it had gotten, until she walked into the stone cold silence of the shadowy dungeon corridor. Since Professor Snape had taken up his post as Defence Against the Dark Arts Master, there was never anyone to be found in the dungeons, once classes were over.   
Hermione’s small heels clicking on the cobbled floors as she walked slowly along the dimly lit corridor. She paused momentarily, remembering her first encounter with Lucius on this very spot. He was never far from her thoughts. Her body tingling at the recollection, even here, there were so many reminders of him.   
A clicking sound still continued against the hard cobbled floor.  
“Are you lost Miss Granger?”   
A somewhat amused sounding voice drawled from behind her, just as it had done a few months before.  
A shiver ran through Hermione, love, excitement and desire raced neck and neck through her body. Hermione recognised that tone in his voice, and quelling the urge to simply rush into Lucius’ arms, she turned slowly to face him.   
Love and excitement were putting in a good race, but as she came face to face with the overwhelming presence of Lucius Malfoy, dominating the narrow space, desire streaked ahead.   
Hermione was totally and utterly lost, and just as before geography had nothing to do with it.  
“Completely Mister Malfoy.” She hardly recognised her own breathy tones as she took a step towards him.   
She practically devoured him with her eyes, taking in every part of him. Even through her lust filled gaze, Hermione realised he must have been at the school for a while. He looked utterly relaxed and devilishly handsome. There were no signs of any recent travel. Not that Lucius Malfoy ever looked anything other than flawless, even after apparition or flooing. But there was no outdoor cloak covering his immaculately tailored robes, and the fingers which curled around the serpent head of his cane were not gloved. His mode of address, whilst a playful reference to their previous encounter here, was delivered in a manner which seemed to indicate he were somehow party to her request to use single name.  
Like hers, his long hair was tethered with a small strand of ribbon, his black, to match the clothing he wore. The look in eyes reflected the unashamed need in her own as it took in her slight form. The gazes collided, her honey brown holding his slate grey with a smouldering intensity.  
Lucius wondered what hardened his body more, the simple, beautiful sight of the young woman he had married. The fact that she looked so deliciously appealing, not to mention incredibly hot in her school uniform or the fact that she obviously wanted and need him as much as he wanted and needed her.   
This time the sexual tension crackled like a firework display.  
Hermione could feel hot, wet need, throbbing and pooling between her legs. Lucius’ nostrils flared, a knowing look glinted in his eyes and a wicked smirk tugged at his lips.  
“Perhaps there is something I can assist you with Miss Granger?”   
His voice was low and sexy, caressing her skin with its velvety soft tones. Hermione chewed on the inside of her bottom lip, her body practically screaming for the man before her, latent desire oozing from every pore. She took a step closer, the small satchel she had been holding, dropped to the floor. One of her hands came to rest on the solid wall of his chest. The other coasted provocatively over the front of his trousers, whilst not actually touching him intimately.  
Her lips drifted to his ear, her warm breath caressing the shell: “That is very kind of you Mr Malfoy”.  
Her soft cheek brushing against his slightly stubbled one. The roughness eliciting an even more wanton reaction in the young witch.   
“Would you fuck me?” Hermione rarely used coarse language, never seeing the point. Today she saw the point.   
For a fleeting moment she worried that Lucius might not approve, especially when he gripped her wrist painfully between his fingers, a shocked hiss of breath escaping his lips, a severe look accompanying the obligatory raised eyebrow.   
“Such filthy language from such a beautiful mouth.” He mused kissing her hard, his lips crushing hers.   
His fingers were still biting painfully into the thin flesh at her wrist, her small hand splayed against the pressure. He steered her hand lower and thrust himself against the palm.   
“You see what your profanity does to me?”  
Hermione pressed her palm hard against his sheathed arousal, it twitched at her touch, a low guttural moan escaping from the dark wizard.   
With a swift flick of his wand the door to the potions classroom opened behind her. Lucius stepped forward. Hermione finally felt him. His potent arousal and impatient desire burning against her belly.  
She savoured the feel of him before back backing into the now empty classroom, which she had left only minutes before. Once Lucius had passed through the solid wooden door frame, it swung shut and she heard the lock drop into place.   
Lucius’ hands moved under her black robe. Shifting to the hem of her skirt and beneath to caress the silky bare softness of her thighs, where her school stockings ended. He found her uniform turning him on even more than it had done before. She might be his wife, she might be of age, but to his throbbing cock and fanciful mind, this was illicit sex with a student in a Hogwarts classroom.   
His deft fingers dipping into her damp knickers, brushing over her deliciously bare lips and slipping into her wet folds, this thumb teasing her with light assured precision.   
Hermione gasped, every inch of her drowning in sea of sensation, her body instinctively arching into him. Again he moved forward, pushing her backwards until she could go no further. Her arse colliding with the solid edge of the table, he placed his cane on it and Hermione felt his strong hands lifting her onto the cold flat surface. His hand returned to its ministrations, his fingers curling inside her, his thumb drifting idly over her core and that sensitive bundle of nerves.   
Hermione took his face in her hands, looking flirtatiously into his eyes as she writhed lightly against his touch. Feeling that unusually stubbled cheek once more, it was the only indication that he been working and travelling all day. It gave him an added edge, a roughness which added to the base instincts which were flooding her body, exacerbating her already burning need for him  
His lips were deliciously soft as always, as they covered hers, drawing her in deeper and becoming more passionate. His long skilled fingers mirroring the action of his tongue, dipping into their own damp fissure, and pushing her so quickly towards breaking point.   
Hermione leant back on the hard surface of the table. Her head falling backwards under the onslaught of his kisses. His mouth felt exquisite as it left hers, greedily devouring the soft ivory skin of her neck and throat, savouring the taste of her. A long low moan escaping her lips as it continued to move over her exposed skin, finding more and more of her sensitive flesh to plunder. His deft fingers dispensing with the small buttons on her cotton shirt and then the fastening on her simple white bra.  
The feel of his hot breath was slowly unravelling her. His lips taunting and suckling at her, until his name tumbled from hers in a breathy almost strangled cry.   
His searing mouth moved unhurriedly down to her breast, taking one hardened, aching peak, sweetly but firmly in his mouth, his sharp teeth, nipping at the puckered flesh. Her groan saw his lips once more upon hers, devouring it in a feverish kiss, before slipping back to the other exposed and tightened bud. She all but screamed as his tongue swept over the swollen peak with a luscious wet heat.  
Her own fingers moved to the back of his head pulling him against her, urging him on with scorching intensity, as he continued to torment her.   
Her hands moved from his head to his chest, tugging at the buttons which secured his shirt. The first three surrendered willingly to her frantic fingers. The fourth was, due to the position they were in, annoyingly, just beyond her reach. She tried again, her fingers just millimetres from their goal.   
Sensing her frustration, Lucius moved. Releasing the tightly budded nipple from his mouth, he stood briefly to capture her lips once more. As his tongue slipped into the moist cavern, slowly exploring its heat, he felt Hermione’s fingers drift to the remaining buttons. Freeing them, she yanked the shirt from his trousers, exposing his chest to her hungry eyes.  
There was dull clink of leather against metal, the soft purr of a zipper being lowered, and the gentle rustle of material as his trousers fell to the ground, Hermione finally freeing him from the restrictive confines of his clothing. This time it was Lucius’ guttural moan which filled the air of the silent classroom, her small hand connecting with his now exposed and rigid flesh. Her gentle fingers caressing the shaft and brushing over the weeping tip.   
His own fingers continued to stroke her wet folds, Hermione’s eyes fluttering shut as she enjoyed not only her own pleasure at his hands, but the obvious pleasure she was inflicting on him.  
This wasn’t about the sensual removal of clothing, this was raw unadulterated need. Hermione felt her knickers pulled to one side, and the throbbing head of his cock at her entrance. Her eyes drifted open once more, looking at the striking, commanding man looming over her. She wanted him so much. Maybe this should have been a gentle, loving reunion, although she doubted their all-consuming need for each other made it any less loving. Even if perhaps the location was questionable.  
Hermione pulled Lucius forward, capturing his mouth as he entered her. They groaned against each other, swallowing their respective cries of pleasure as they moved rhythmically together. It was only their need to breath that forced them apart from time to time.  
He thrust gently into her, enjoying the hot, wet heat that gripped him. Something he had missed so desperately over the last few nights and mornings. A groan of satisfaction slipped from his mouth into hers, as she lifted her long legs around him, drawing him in deeper, urging him to move harder and faster.   
Lucius needed no second telling, she’d asked him to “fuck her”. He heard her words over in his head, so carnal from her usually sweet mouth, they attacked his base need, hitting straight at his groin. He wanted to hear her say it again. His mouth left hers and drifted to her ear.   
“Say it again……tell me what you want”. He commanded in that hushed imperious tone of his.  
Placing her hand on his bare chest, she could feel his heart pounding frantically beneath it, Hermione gently shoved him away. Looking into his faintly flushed face, a small smirk lifted her lips and she licked them provocatively. Tilting her hips sharply towards him, her bared breasts rising and falling, she writhed against him, her eyes riveted to his.  
“I want you to fuck me Lucius. Fuck me now.”  
Lucius all but growled in response to her words. Drawing out slowly, and pulling her to the edge of the table, before thrusting long and hard into her silky juices. She felt so good, incredibly tight, deliciously wet and so hot. He loved this wanton side of her, how her body reacted to him, how she made him feel. He’d imagined various incarnations of being reunited with his young wife, of surprising her at school, taking her in his arms. A quick fuck, her choice of words not his, in the potions classroom hadn’t been one of them. The moment he’d entered the dungeons, one of those fantasies they had talked about in the library, had commandeered his brain, and his body. He didn’t want to quash any romantic ideas she might have had, testing the water with the words from their first encounter. The look on her face and her body language had been all he needed.   
Hermione moved her legs higher around his body, deepening their union, maximising the angle and the pleasure. His cock sheathed deep inside her, reaching and stroking all of those secret places that had ached so desperately for him. Her inner muscles tightened blissfully around, his throbbing shaft.   
Lucius knew she was close, so was he.   
His gentle steady thrusts accelerating into an almost hammering ferocity. Her legs tightening around his waist as Lucius lunged forcefully into her, sending her headlong into a crushing wave of release. Her inner walls convulsing and shuddering around his shaft as it drove into her, had Lucius calling out her name as his own climax spilled into her.   
Lucius practically collapsed against her, the two of them panting heavily as they lay sated over the hard table. Hermione trying to catch her breath under his weight but clinging to him in the same instance, not wanting to relinquish him in any way.   
The hard surface of the table and his softening body had other ideas and eventually they both reluctantly moved. Lucius hoisting up his rather crumpled trousers and Hermione adjusting her bra and shirt.  
“I am not sure I will ever be able to concentrate in potions again.” Hermione said wrapping her arms around Lucius’ neck, drawing him back to her.  
A wry smile curled Lucius’s mouth a wicked glint lighting his eyes. “What a shame Severus is no longer potions master.”  
“We could try the Defence Against the Dark Art Classroom next.” Hermione suggested, her stoic expression not hiding the laughter in her eyes.  
Lucius pulled her to him. “I thought perhaps we might be a little more conventional next time and use a bed.” He couldn’t hide a grin at her look of mock disappointment. “  
“Whilst being chair of the school governors has its advantages. I doubt Minerva would see those stretching to, fucking my wife in all of her classrooms.”  
“I suppose you have a point.”   
Still seated on the table Hermione wrapped her legs around Lucius’, her hands resting on his arse. “Mmmm, I see why you wanted me to say it again, it’s really rather erotic, when used in the right place. So my darling husband, talking of the right place, just where do you intend on being more conventional?”  
“Here.” He laughed at the shocked expression on Hermione’s face.   
“Well not here exactly, but like I said, being the chair of the school governors has its advantages. Now where was that hideous painting you showed me the last time I was here?”


	30. In Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because we all need a little heat as winter draws on............

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My usual gratitude and apologies as we near the end of this fic. There are a few chapters left and an epilogue, so I hope you enjoy what is to come, so to speak :-) ..........

 

For the first time in almost ten years Hermione awoke at Hogwarts feeling disorientated, just as she had done once before at Malfoy Manor. It wasn’t that she didn’t know her surroundings. On the contrary they were like home to her, the fact that Lucius Malfoy was lying contentedly next to her threw her totally off kilter.

When they had arrived back in her room, having slipped in through the secret passageway, Hermione found the small bed in the dormitory considerably larger than she remembered leaving it earlier in the day. Whilst the idea of snuggling up to Lucius in her single bed had been a romantically appealing one, the reality might not have been conducive to a good night’s sleep. Not that there had been very much sleeping involved.

Before Hermione had permitted Lucius to do anything else, she insisted he tell her how he had convinced the Hogwarts Headmistress to allow him to stay at the school, let alone transfigure the bed. Her impromptu wedding, had revealed Minerva McGonagall to be an unashamed romantic, and Hermione knew from experience, the older witch was not averse to bending the odd rule or two. But this was just a tad more than _bending the odd rule._

“Haven’t you heard about my remarkable powers of persuasion my dear?” He had drawled seductively at her.

It had been all Hermione could do to stop him demonstrating those powers. But hard as she might try, and using every means at her disposal, Hermione still couldn’t get him to reveal exactly what sort of persuasion he had used on Minerva McGonagall. It was obvious, for some reason, the wily Scot had developed a soft spot for her husband. Just why, and how he had managed to worm his way quite so thoroughly into her affections, still baffled Hermione.  Although it probably shouldn’t. The irony was not lost on the young witch, hadn’t he done the exact same thing to her?  In an incredibly few short months Lucius Malfoy had gone from the devil incarnate, to her husband. It was really quite easy to fall under the spell of such a charismatic and charming man. Who would have thought she would ever say those things about the former Death Eater? She couldn’t however suppress her curiosity when it came to the Headmistress. As she snuggled against his bare back, she was just glad that whatever he had said or done, it had allowed him to be here with her.

Hermione had found, what had become their usual waking positions, reversed. Instead of having Lucius’s arm slung across her, his powerful chest against her back as she listened to his peaceful regular breathing. She had awoken to find her own arm anchored across her sleeping husband. Her palm splayed across his chest, the fine downy layer of hair against her fingertips. Her breasts were brushing against the delicious soft skin of his back. Lucius was usually spooned against her, so she was practically sitting in his lap. This morning Hermione was wrapped around him like a serpent. Her foot hooked over his leg, brought him flush against her. Instead of waking to a morning erection poking her backside, she enjoyed his backside against her tingling sex.

After their virtually frenzied coupling in the potions classroom, they had talked and curled up together in her dormitory. Enjoying much more tender, and unhurried love making, later, in the more conventional comfort of her bed. Hermione felt a little sinful that she awoke wanting Lucius just as much as she had prior his unscheduled arrival at the school yesterday. She also felt a little guilty about disturbing his peaceful slumber, but she nonetheless found her hands already roving lightly over his body.

He didn’t wake as her hand ghosted over his leg.  Tracing the solid contour of his thigh and gliding once more up to his chest, which still rose and fell in blissful repose. She adored how he reacted to her even in sleep. A flat nipple hardening to her feather light touch. Lucius groaned softly and Hermione gently rubbed herself against him, the thrill as erotic as if he had touched her himself. Her small, almost tentative hand moved lower, over the flat muscled planes of his stomach. Her fingers travelling through the line of hair below his navel, finally reaching the coarser thatch at his groin.

His morning arousal of late, usually prodded her backside. This morning it stood not fully erect from his body, but as her fingers curled slowly around his warm flesh, she felt it hardening completely. Her own body throbbed at the connection and she squirmed against Lucius. Moaning softly as once again his taut, sexy arse rubbed against her already wet lips. More guilt seeped through her veins, carried along on a tide of curiosity. Could Lucius really enjoy such reactions whilst still sleeping or was he just pretending to be asleep and simply allowing her to pleasure both herself and him? She wasn’t sure she really cared, although if it was the former, she still felt a little like she was taking advantage of the comatose man.

Her fingers tightened around his now totally erect cock. This was something Hermione hadn’t done before. Of course she had touched him intimately, but not stimulating and arousing him in the same way she had seen him pleasure himself in the library. She found her curiosity and her own arousal increasing rapidly, finding this was an incredibly erotic position. Hermione closed her eyes, allowing all of her other senses to sharpen and take over.

Pure Lucius drifting to her nose. The now somewhat muted tones of his exotic and heady cologne mingling with his own warm, masculine scent, a scent accentuated by the warmth of sleep.  Her tongue licking gently at the flesh before her, filling her mouth with the taste of everything that invaded her nostrils. The gentle relaxed sound of his breathing, peppered with the occasional somnolent groan caressed her ears, just as his voice did, reaching deep within her, stroking parts like nothing else could. All of these things were heightened by her even keener sense of touch as her hand moved slowly up and down the length of his shaft.    

Waking up and finding Hermione in his arms those first few mornings had been nothing short of idyllic. Her soft sleeping form curled against him, the way their bodies reacted to each other. It had been many years since he’d woken up feeling quite so content or so aroused. The last few mornings since Hermione had returned to school he’d missed her desperately. He had to be honest. He had also missed that soft rounded backside pressing against his groin, cushioning his burgeoning erection. Each morning since her departure, Lucius had gradually stirred from sleep, practically feeling her against him. The first morning he’d woken fully to find himself clutching one of the pillows and completely tangled in the bedding. The second hadn’t been much better, finding himself extremely hard and rubbing himself against the bed. He had chided himself, he was a grown man not a horny adolescent. Whatever he was the outcome had been the same.

This morning however, was the worst yet. So intense was his desire for his young wife, Lucius could feel her soft hand grasping his hardened flesh. He groaned, moving backwards, trying to get away from the powerful dream that gripped both his mind and his body. As he felt her sweet softness curl around his arse, he struggled to rouse himself. Whilst the sensation was exquisite, he really didn’t need another morning finding himself in yet another intimate, sleep induced tangle with his bed linen.

Today however he fought himself, not the high cotton thread of his bedding. His eyes point blank refusing to open, as he succumbed to the fingers stroking his throbbing cock and the sweet wet warmth grinding against his arse.   He groaned again, there was no escape, clearly neither his brain nor his body desired that escape, both revelling in her touch. 

Lucius had been a teenager the last time he’d had a dream as powerfully erotic as this, one where he knew he would wake up to find his sheets and his thighs wet and sticky. What did it matter? His own hand had lacked any form of satisfaction since Hermione had left, perhaps allowing himself this school boyish reaction would help alleviate the ache. He let glorious sensation engulf him. Her soft warm hand sliding from his shaft to caress the tightening skin of his balls. But for the heightened pleasure it could have been his own hand, her small hand replicating his own practised touch perfectly.

As always with dreams, they were disjointed. Lucius realised his sleep had taken him to a different place. Noticing silly anomalous things in his subconscious, like the sheets against his sensitised skin not being as luxurious as those at the manor. He fought to work out where his slumbering mind had taken him. The soft but firm hand around his cock, clouded his sleep and addled brain still further. He was thinking of Hermione, his dream had obviously brought him to her, and not vice versa.

The throaty low moan which accompanied the cadenced writhing against his arse was no dream.

The reason why Lucius couldn’t open his eyes was because, he wasn’t dreaming at all. They were in fact already open. Of course he’d travelled to Hogwarts yesterday. The fingers wrapped around his rigid shaft were delightfully real, as was the wet mound of femininity that moved against his backside.

A sleepy smile lifted his mouth. Hermione certainly was an excellent study. She’d watched him once, that afternoon of mutual self-pleasure they had shared at the manor, and yet here was her hand moving exactly as his had done.   With unhurried, gentle precision. Savouring every ridge, every inch of skin, extricating the maximum amount of almost measured pleasure.

This wasn’t the first time Lucius had been woken by touch, but never had it been like this. Every fibre of body his was alive, tingling, awash with some sensation or another.

He was torn between wanting to roll over and slip into the silky wetness that was caressing his arse or simply allowing her to continue.  His brain and his body deciding on the latter, both unable to move away from such sensory gratification.

Returning her attentions once more to Lucius’ proud erection.  Hermione replaced her fingertips with her palm, curling it not too tightly around his silky flesh and allowing it to slip freely but erotically through her clasp. Her thumb brushing and squeezing the tip, spreading the dewy bead of moisture along the length, the natural lubricant clearly intensifying her touch.  She heard Lucius moan, much more distinctly this time, feeling him press harder against her sex. She knew instinctively, he was awake now, but from his reactions, he was more than happy for her to continue.  Letting her believe perhaps he was still sleeping and letting her to do as she wished. Hermione was only too pleased to _play along_ with the charade. _That side_ of her knew exactly what she wanted to do, exactly what would please her, and hopefully him too. But a tiny frisson of uncertainty trickled into her hot blood. She was totally in control of not only her own body but also of Lucius’. Arousing him like this was one thing. Taking it to its natural conclusion was something very different. 

From the sounds emanating from Lucius, the throbbing arousal in her hand and the way he moved against her, she got the impression she was certainly pressing all the right knobs……..so to speak.

Hermione buried her face in Lucius’ hair, inhaling deeply, his scent drugging her senses. Her eyes still closed, she gave herself over to Lucius’ pleasure.  Her own would come, she had no doubt. She was already teetering on a very narrow precipice, knowing that it would be his release that would push her over the edge.  The two in fact were already blurring into one. Hermione realised it was, what was making the entire scenario so utterly erotic.  Touching Lucius like this, was like touching herself, but she got to enjoy the best of both sensations. As she stroked his silky aroused flesh, he pressed harder against her, his reactions becoming, her reactions. It was a lusciously sensual, never ending circle. She needed more, so she moved harder against him, her fingers tightening around him. His pleasure increased as did his reactions, so did hers and so it went on.

Her tightly peaked nipples abrading against his back, she tried to increase the friction.  Hermione was being swept along at the pace she was setting, a blistering carnal rhythm that was swallowing her up. Every part of her that connected with Lucius gradually became overwhelmed in the sensation of absolute pleasure.  She could feel him throbbing in her hand, could feel the change in his body. It sent a whole new wave of arousal crashing through her.

She writhed against the length of his back, coated in her own juice as if she riding him, every nerve ending in her body screamed out. There was nothing simulating her except the glorious feel of his taut body against her own, which was pulsating in sheer ecstasy. Hermione ground herself the length of him, savouring the incredibly close, but somehow very different, contact.   It was almost as if she were on her own, enjoying the mere thought of him, but being able to delight in his body.

Lucius felt Hermione’s body start to tremble against him, selfishly thinking.

“Merlin, whatever you do, don’t stop”. Had he said the words out loud?

He didn’t know, but her hand constricted around him, moving in long fluid strokes. Strokes that became more rapid as she came, her fingers tightening, ever so slightly around him. The leg that had been hooked over his, held him like a boa constrictor as she milked his own orgasm with a mind blowing intensity that forced him back hard against her and robbed him of breath. 

Even through her own release, Hermione could feel quite literally feel Lucius come.  Every part of her body had trembled and tightened dramatically, except her hand. The feel of his pulsating flesh had all but thrown her over the edge. His absolute pleasure was entirely, in every sense of the words, in her hands. She could feel every moment of that final pleasure. That she was the cause of it, and in virtual control of it. Feeling that pleasure spill from his body into her hand, was deeply erotic and it heightened her own ecstasy, as did the animalistic sound which was ripped from Lucius. It sent a secondary wave of orgasm through her.

 

They practically slumped against each other, their laboured breathing gradually returning to normal. Hermione was still wrapped around her husband, although her grasp was much lighter, savouring how every aspect of his taut body relaxed.

Her mouth at his ear she spoke for the first time. “What made you come?” Her voice was husky and still a little breathless.

Lucius twisted against her, his attractively flushed face, mere centimetres from her own. A devilish twinkle lit his grey eyes, his pupils still dilated.

“I think your surprisingly deft hand stimulating my cock had something to do with it.” He said brushing his lips against hers, his tongue roguishly tracing the seam.

Hermione found his words ridiculously arousing, even after what they had just shared.  Enjoying their coarseness on his refined voice.

“Hmm, that wasn’t quite what I meant.” Hermione said, realising she should had chosen her words a little more carefully.

“It wasn’t?” The dark wizard feigned childlike innocence, his grey eyes widening for effect.

“No……and well you know it Mr Malfoy.” She responded, kissing him this time, with the same unhurried playfulness. Feeling his lips smirk beneath her own.

She moved backwards, searching his face.

“Would you believe a rather cryptic but entirely enlightening owl from my son?”

Hermione looked at Lucius, save the few moments of teasing from Draco a couple of days ago, they had hardly spoken of his father. Hermione assuming that Draco were trying to keep her mind otherwise occupied.

“Oh!” was all she could manage. As much in response to the soft hand that gently caressed her skin, as the admission.

The smirk on Lucius Malfoy’s face became a full blown smile, both at her intrigue and how responsive she was to his touch and so quickly.

“Hmm, I sent him an owl”.

“Mmmm, I know, it arrived with mine.” Her body was still incredibly sensitive but she loved how his hand felt as it drifted sensually over her skin. Already wanting him. Merlin how could this be?

Lucius’s lips brushed her hair, moving once more to capture hers in a feather light kiss.

“I asked him to keep an eye on you. To let me know if you needed anything, and of course that you were alright”

“Oh you did, did you?” She nipped his lip playfully, but not drawing any blood this time.

“Yes, I knew, whilst you would tell me you loved me and that hopefully you missed me. You might not be so forthcoming with the truth about anything else.”

“Very astute of you.” She arched into him. “I did of course miss you.” Their bodies were just shy of actually touching.

“So it would seem.” The infamous eyebrow lifted. “As I said before, it would appear my son knows you very well.”

Lucius was astounded at his own body’s response. He was no longer a young man, but could already feel himself stirring.

“So what exactly was this cryptic yet enlightening reply of Draco’s?”

She could feel the heat emanating from Lucius’ body that intoxicating and heady scent of him once more invading her senses.  

“It simply said. Hermione is frustratingly cranky or should that be, crankily frustrated.”

Hermione couldn’t supress her laughter, by rights she probably should be embarrassed, but she was actually extremely grateful that Draco had read her flushed face and irritability so well.  Slipping once more back into Lucius intimate embrace, she made a mental note to thank her _stepson._

 


	31. Tears and Temper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't end the story without one more encounter with our favourite Defence Against The Dark Arts Master now could I.......enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well we are nearly reaching the end now my friends. Usual housekeeping applies and thank you all for staying with me for my "little one shot".

 

Quite literally, having Lucius for the weekend was bliss.  The second weekend he joined her, Hermione discovered that Lucius’ _powers of persuasion_ with Minerva McGonagall had a very short shelf life. The Headmistress, having only given him permission to stay at the school for one weekend. She had however allowed for Hermione to be away from the premises from Friday until Sunday whenever she wished. Usually pupils were not permitted to remain away from the school, only of course during holiday periods. But Hermione was a married woman and a senior. Lucius Malfoy was also a very difficult, nigh on impossible man to say no to, as well as the fact he was of course a school governor.

The man himself, hadn’t much cared for the small rooms above the Three Broomsticks. Whilst they might suit Draco’s rendezvous with his current paramour, they certainly didn’t come up to his father’s standards.  But then, he didn’t look much more at home in the small house he had decided to rent in Hogsmeade for the duration of Hermione’s time at Hogwarts. But at least it was private and they were together, nothing else really mattered.

Hermione for her part loved the homely little cottage. She used the term little loosely, it wasn’t Malfoy Manor admittedly, but it wasn’t Harry’s cupboard under the stairs either. Secretly she found it much more homely than the Manor and loved spending time there with Lucius. She came to dread Sunday afternoon’s when Lucius had to return to either London or Wiltshire, but unless something unforeseen came up, she knew it would only be a few days before they were together again. Once he left, she again buried herself in homework and revision, catching up on the time she had lost over the weekend, but not minding at all. The late nights, sometimes even early mornings were worth the time she got to spend with Lucius.

 

Draco was also grateful to his father for this new arrangement with Hermione. Now at least if his friend was cranky, she was just cranky. Everyone had their off days.  Professor Snape was clearly having one of those day’s today. Well even more so than usual it would seem. He was snipping and snarking at everyone. Hufflepuffs and Slytherin’s alike, no one was immune from his acerbity this particular afternoon. Draco felt certain the only person likely to escape his foul temper was actually Hermione. She hadn’t had two evenings of intense Quidditch practise and of course being Hermione, the paper, the irascible Professor had set a couple of days earlier, was complete and well written. She had tried to help Draco with the assignment, but he hadn’t given her much time and save copying hers, it was always going to be nothing short of an unmitigated disaster. 

“Mister Malfoy” Snape threw the parchment in front of Draco, his pale face etched in derision.

“If. You had spent a quarter of the time on this, as you had at Quidditch practice, you might have achieved a half decent mark, but then again maybe not…..”

Draco took Snape’s remarks on the chin, he was of course right about the time he spent, not working on the assignment, but his addendum was uncalled for.

Amidst a rustle of his black robes he moved on, dishing out more caustic comments as he returned parchment to it relevant owners.

“Mrs Malfoy……..”

Severus Snape was the only teacher who ever referred to Hermione as thus, but only when it suited him to do so.

On Hermione’s first day back at school after the Christmas holidays, he had made a point of telling her that he was a little confused that she wished to continue being called Miss Granger, when her husband had been so quick to pick him up on his error. Not wishing to antagonise Snape any further, after the incident with the strand of silk at Malfoy Manor. Hermione had assured the Defence Against the Dark Arts Master, that either form of address was perfectly acceptable, she just did not want to cause any confusion with Draco in most of her classes.

Snape’s empty black eyes had narrowed and he had begrudgingly accepted her words.

Draco saw Hermione visibly blanch at Snape’s words. It wasn’t like her, in fact usually it had quite the opposite effect. But instead of raising her chin defiantly at Snape, this afternoon Draco noticed her head bow, and her shoulders droop.

“I expect better from you.” He spat in his clipped voice. “Especially in _this_ subject. All things being considered, one would expect you to have first-hand knowledge.” The clipped edge in his voice took on a nasty, sarcastic drawl as he thrust the ivory parchment in front of Hermione. Those same black eyes boring into Hermione, who had finally raised her head.

To Draco’s shock and to his horror, he noticed her big brown eyes, fill will tears. The last time he’d seen her so upset in anyone’s class, was in Alistair Moody’s first lesson. Grabbing the paper, she thrust it in her satchel and slid off the wooden bench.

“I haven’t yet dismissed the class….Mrs”

A decidedly irritated and somewhat surprised Snape called after her receding figure. Taking advantage of the small kafuffle of voices that ensued. Draco hotfooted it after her.

“Mister Malfoy…..”

Snape’s measured authoritative tones, were usually enough to stop a marauding troll but not today. Something had upset Hermione, not just the Professor’s cutting comments. Probably Potter again, but she hadn’t mentioned anything to him.

The Professor hadn’t used his considerably powerful magic to prevent Hermione from leaving the classroom. He doubted he would dare to anything to him either, except maybe give him yet another detention. Well that was nothing new. He too left the classroom, the heavy door slamming behind him as he called after Hermione.

“Granger hey wait up, Granger……..Hermione wait.”

Hermione stopped and took a deep breath, tears were streaming down her face as she turned towards Draco.

Merlin’s beard, this was a serious amount of tears and he was totally outside of his comfort zone. Temper he could deal with, frustration he had learnt to deal with, but tears, this was a very different ball game for the younger Malfoy. He didn’t know where to start. As he watched the tears continue to spill onto her cheeks, and her small frame tremble, instinct suddenly kicked in and Draco took Hermione in his arms. Holding her tightly, he had no idea what to say because he had no clue what was wrong. Sure Snape had been a complete arse to her, but he’d been worse.

After a few moments, Hermione took a step backwards. Her face wet, her eyes red. She gave Draco a very watery smile.

He searched her face: “Are you okay? This isn’t like you, what happened?”

 “I don’t know.” Hermione shrugged her shoulders. “I am just tired I guess. I don’t sleep so well on my own these days” She stopped, noticing the, _too much information,_ look on Draco’s face.

“I used to spend my weekends doing my homework, but…..well now I have to do it at night and with revision as well. I just couldn’t cope with Snape today.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is?”

She looked at her friend, his blue eyes watching her warily:

“Potter hasn’t owled you again or anything has he?” Draco asked, anger lacing his voice.

Hermione shook her head, a head that was now throbbing.

“No Draco. I would have told you, I promise. You know I replied to his owl, saying I was happy to get together sometime. But he hasn’t replied.” Sadness flickered once more in her brown eyes.

“Honestly I am just tired, it’s been a rather surreal few weeks and I think even my brain is struggling to keep up.”

Draco wasn’t entirely convinced by her placations, nothing rattled Hermione this much, especially not Severus Snape. Over the years they had both learnt to deal with or ignore his Head of House. But he didn’t want to upset her any further, so he let it drop.  Happy that she took him up on his suggestion to have some dinner and then get an early night. His father would be back the day after tomorrow and whilst not resolving the sleep issue entirely, Draco was certain Hermione would be happier.

 

 

Hermione was always very quiet and sometimes a little snappy on Monday’s following Lucius’ departure. Fortunately she and Draco didn’t share their first lesson of the week, they usually met for lunch, by which time Hermione’s mood had improved and she was more talkative. Today she was still rather quiet and looked more than a little tired. 

After a particularly exhilarating game of Quidditch on Saturday morning, watched by most of the school governors, Draco had spent most of his own weekend in bed, so he too was feeling more than a little weary, satisfactorily so.  It gave him the energy, and the good humour to tease Hermione.  For which she found her voice, if not her better mood.  Being tired himself, Draco’s fuse was a little shorter than usual. His own good humour vanishing rapidly, and instead of laughing at Hermione and baiting her further. He too snapped.

“Wrong time of the month.” He retaliated to her own blistering retort.

Her face went bright red and then ashen. Whilst they might tease each other from time to time about their respective antics with their respective partners, there were boundaries and Draco realised he had seriously crossed on of them. Angry and more than a little embarrassed, he got up leaving his lunch unfinished, he stormed off back to the Slytherin common room.

Hermione stared at the empty seat in front of her, feeling sick that she had been so hateful to Draco, but feeling even sicker at his words. Hermione had fortunately never suffered from PMT in her life, but that wasn’t the issue, neither was the fact that Draco’s words were so personal. The problem was Hermione couldn’t remember the last time there had actually been a _wrong time of the month._ It was Valentine’s weekend, the second week in February. Hermione wracked her brain, she definitely hadn’t had a period since being back at school, nor had she had one whilst at Malfoy Manor over Christmas.

“SHIT!” She exclaimed out loud and rather louder than she thought. A couple of first years looked at her in surprise.

About a week or so after the Feast of All Hallows, she remembered now. Feeling her face burn, she remembered because she had been hoping that she wouldn’t get it for the feast itself. Wanting to wear her nice new silky underwear and….. “Shit” This time the word was said under her breath. 

Hermione glanced at her watch. She had plenty of time before her next lesson to pop along and see Madam Pomfrey. Thankfully the Matron at Hogwarts had put any plans to retire on hold for the foreseeable future. Hermione wouldn’t have felt comfortable seeing someone else, at the moment even seeing Madam Pomfrey was awkward enough.  Picking up her small satchel she headed off towards the hospital wing. By the time she arrived, her brain was in overdrive and just about ready to explode.

She knocked tentatively on the small office door, Madam Pomfrey’s calm, capable voice calling for her to: “Come in.”

A huge smile lit the elderly Matron’s face, before it suddenly fell.

“Miss Granger, how lovely…..”

She stopped suddenly, Hermione wasn’t sure if it was because she had addressed her by her single name or because she was worried as to the reason for Hermione’s visit.

“Are you ill? Please come in, sit down.”

Hermione all but shuffled into the room, sitting on the small wooden chair, in front of the Matron’s desk. Her face was still burning, her palms were sweating and her heart was beating so fast, Hermione was certain that Madam Pomfrey could hear it.

“Err, well. I don’t think you would say I am sick exactly Madam…..Erm. It’s just I haven’t….”

The smile returned to the nurse’s face a knowing look lighting her kindly eyes.

 

Hermione made her way to herbology a short time later with the knowledge that she was in fact carrying Lucius’s baby. A silly grin sat on her lips as small frisson of apprehension twisted in her gut.  She ridiculously hadn’t given a contraception charm a thought, clearly neither had Lucius. How could they have been so stupid? The answer to that was really quite simple.

She hadn’t given a baby a thought either, and she was certain Lucius hadn’t. Despite the enormity of the situation, Hermione was overjoyed at the prospect of becoming a mother, but what about Lucius? He was already a father. They hadn’t talked about children, only the child he already had, Merlin’s teeth, what about Draco. Despite her joy, it was so much to take in, her brain began to spin once more, her head starting to throb. Heat suffusing her entire body, nausea rising up in her throat. Supposing Lucius didn’t want any more children? The thought was like a kick in the stomach and her hand went protectively to her still flat tummy. Hermione felt hotter still, the hallway began to swim around her. Suddenly everything went black and there was peace and quiet, Hermione felt cooler, her brain didn’t hurt anymore.

 

Three pairs of eyes looked anxiously back at Hermione.  Madam Pomfrey’s relieved but thankfully not unduly concerned. Minerva McGonagall’s green gaze was tinged with motherly worry. Draco’s blue eyes were like a cross between a rabbit caught in light and a child about to burst into tears.

“Welcome back my dear.” Madam Pomfrey said, bustling about at the end of the bed in the hospital wing. “You gave us a bit of a scare. Some more than others.” She cast a sidelong glance at Draco, who was seated in the small wooden chair next to the neatly made bed.

The young blonde was even more pale than usual, but visibly relieved. His thin, clammy fingers curled tightly around Hermione’s.

Her other hand rested on her stomach and she glanced nervously at the nurse.

Madam Pomfrey smiled affectionately at her. “You are fine my dear, nothing at all to worry about. You have just been overdoing it a little.”

The look in her eyes and reassuring words told Hermione all she needed to know. She noticed her exchange a meaningful look with the Headmistress, a look which went thankfully went over Draco’s head.

“Gr…Hermione, I am so sorry, I didn’t.”

Hermione squeezed his fingers.

“Hey Ferret.” Her mouth was dry and she struggled to speak.

The nurse handed her some water as she wriggled to sit up.

“Draco it wasn’t your fault, like Madam Pomfrey says I’ve just been overdoing it. I just need to try and balance things a little better, and maybe not skip so many meals.”

The relief on Draco’s face was palpable, she would like to have said the colour came back into his cheeks, but being a Malfoy, that didn’t happen too often.

“Perhaps Mister Malfoy……you could go and arrange a sandwich of something for Miss Granger now.” The headmistress suggested, clearly keen to get Draco out of earshot.

“That would be lovely, you don’t mind do you Ferret?”

Keen to make up for his earlier shortcomings, Draco released Hermione’s hand and left the three women along as he went in search of sustenance.

Certain he was out of earshot, Madam Pomfrey addressed her patient.

“My dear, I had to tell the Headmistress of your condition, in case there were any issues. But it goes without saying no one else will be privy to the information.”

“Thank you Madam Pomfrey. I understand completely.”  Hermione said smiling. Switching her gaze to Minerva McGonagall.

The older witch perched on the edge of the small bed, clasping Hermione’s hand in her own.

“Do you want me to owl Lucius?”

“Oh no please Professor, he will be here on Friday. There is no need to worry him unnecessarily, is there Madam Pomfrey?”

“No of course not my dear, you are as strong as a Hippogriff, you just need to take things a little easier, make sure you get plenty of rest and of course you eat regularly. I see no reason why this shouldn’t be a normal healthy pregnancy.”

“I will tell Lucius at the weekend. Not exactly what I had intended on giving him for Valentine’s Day.” That little frisson of apprehension twisted in her gut once more before dancing along Hermione’s spine.

“A perfect day to tell him I think.” The Headmistress’s green eyes twinkled as she patted Hermione’s hand. “He will be thrilled.”

Hermione looked at the canny Scot, her words somehow didn’t seem like a thrown away reassurance, but borne of fact.

“Minerva?” Hermione sat up yet further in the tiny bed.

Madam Pomfrey politely excused herself, returning to her small office to make up notes or so she said.

“So Hermione, do you intend to stay at school and finish your exams or will you be returning to Malfoy Manor?”

McGonagall, cleverly steered the subject in another direction, giving Hermione something else to think about, this wasn’t the 18th century, she hardly had to go into confinement, although Lucius did have some very old fashioned views.

“Well, the exams are June, I don’t think the baby will be due until about August.” She blushed at the Headmistress’s raised eyebrows, unintentionally revealing a little more than she perhaps she should have.

“Do you have a problem with me continuing my studies and sitting my exams?”

Minerva McGonagall laughed. “I have no issue whatsoever with you continuing your studies or sitting your exams. However I am not sure how kindly Lucius Malfoy is going to take to his pregnant wife remaining at school.”

Hermione screwed up her face. The Headmistress had a point, coming back to school had been one thing, remaining at school whilst carrying his child. The Brave Little Gryffindor was certainly going to have to work some very special magic on The Sexy Slytherin to get away with that.


	32. The Right Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will Lucius react to Hermione's news?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well as the man once said.......and so the end is near. Even after 32 chapters apologies and thanks still apply.

 

Hermione spent the next forty eight hours going from overjoyed to terrified, finding it hard to concentrate on any of her lessons. Thanking Merlin for small mercies that, at least she didn’t have any more with Professor Snape this week. She hadn’t returned to class after she left the hospital wing, but instead of being under the watchful eye of Madam Pomfrey, Hermione had found herself, practically glued to Draco, who fussed around her, ten times more than the elderly Matron. It had been all she could do to stop him moving into her dormitory.  She wasn’t sure if, once he found out she was pregnant it would make things better or worse. A couple of times she caught herself watching Lucius’ son, wondering how he would react to the news. He’d surprised her on just about every level so far, she hoped he would be pleased or at least accepting. She hoped his father would be pleased. Terror raced through her blood once again.  

She had received an owl from Lucius on the Friday morning, her heart sinking, that for some reason he wasn’t going to be able to make it at the weekend. She had opened the small piece of parchment with trepidation, almost dreading to read the contents. Relief flooding her body to find that he had been called to a late lunch meeting with the Minister of Magic, so would not be at the rented house when she arrived as he usually was.  Hermione oddly found more relief coursing through her body. The quiet empty house would give her time to collect her thoughts, and relax for a while, without the constant scrutiny of Draco, Madam Pomfrey or Minerva McGonagall. She knew they all meant well, and were just concerned, but a little space and some time alone was just what she needed.

Other than a long relaxing soak in the bath, a roaring fire and the house awash with candles, Hermione had no strategy for the evening. It being Valentines weekend, she had thought about cooking a romantic dinner, but after a late lunch Lucius would hardly want to eat again.  She decided that planning what she was going to say or how she would break the news to Lucius, would simply make her more nervous and on edge. So she would just wait for an opportunity or the right moment to present itself.

Wine was not an option so she made herself a cup of tea and went to run that bath.  Hermione loved the oversized freestanding bathtub in the _mini manor_ as she had taken to referring to the house. Mainly because, like Malfoy Manor, despite its considerably smaller size, every room was dominated by a fireplace of some sort.   

Pouring some orange and bergamot foaming oil into the slowly filling tub, she cast an incendio spell. The fire roared into life, the copious candles dotted and floating around the room doing the same.  As always Hermione had brought the little music box Lucius had given her, she opened the lid and raised her hand, the room immediately filling with the beautiful music. Divesting herself of her clothing, Hermione slipped into the hot scented water.  Closing her eyes she allowed both the water and the music to engulf her, her mind and her body instantly relaxing.

 

Lucius Malfoy could hear the gentle strains of Va Pensiero emanating from the bathroom, under the small gap at the base of the door he could see the soft glow of light.  Removing his travelling cloak, outer robes, and footwear, he slowly and quietly opened the door.  For a moment he just took in the sight before him. A picture of perfection. His beautiful young wife, utterly relaxed as she listened to the music he had given her. That wild mane of hair was scooped high upon her head, keeping it out of the water and scented oil. Her cheeks were glowing, flushed from the heat of the steam and the fire. Her eyes were closed, and a blissfully happy smile settled on her lips.   

“Would you mind if I joined you?” He asked, his voice low and husky.

Hermione’s eyes drifted slowly open, to take in the gorgeous site of her husband.  Her heart skipped a beat, thudding against her chest, her stomach somersaulting at his mere presence and his words.

“Only if your promise to scrub my back.” She said lifting the sponge from beneath the water.

“Anything for you my lady.” He bowed his head theatrically.

His curtain of hair was caught in its usual black ribbon, secured tightly at the nape, the tail falling in a silky platinum line down his elegant back. He didn’t release it, as he slowly removed the remainder of his clothing. Hermione felt desire soar into her veins, loving just to look at his naked form. Clothed, the man was a commanding tour de force, naked he was quite simply beautiful. With his not quite flawless alabaster skin, so reminiscent of a Greek god. Her gaze fell to his perfectly formed arse, causing desire once more to spike her blood.  Her eyes wandering to his lithe but well-muscled legs and arms, and their baby fine layer of dark blonde hair. With that haughty aristocratic air he was so incredibly sexy. A picture of absolute masculinity.

Hermione couldn’t help the flush that crept up over her chest and into her face as he caught her, what could only be described as, ogling him.

“Shall I just stand here?” He asked lifting his arms, his eyebrow raising, and his lips quirking in unbridled amusement.

She moved forward slightly in the tub: “You could stand there for a lifetime and I would never get tired of just looking at you.”

Lucius slid in behind her, the water in the full tub spilling over the rim with the added weight. Those long muscled legs slipping around her as she nestled back against him, her body responding to the briefest contact almost instantly. Her heart thundering in her chest as his large hands came to rest on her stomach.  She always revelled in his touch, but today it felt even more special, her elbows resting on his legs, as her hands came up to cover his.

“I think we need a bigger bath.” She murmured dreamily.

Lucius planted a kiss on the top of her head, she turned her face towards him, her big brown eyes so expressive, so full of love. He captured her lips, it felt like an eternity since he had felt their soft fullness beneath his own. There were times when he awoke alone at the Manor, thinking he’d simply imagined it all, that it had all been some blissful yet cruel dream. Hermione deepened the kiss, her tongue stroking his with a burning sensuality that left him breathless and his body pulsating with need.

“No” He breathed. “This is perfect, a little messy but perfect. I like having you so close.” He savoured the silky softness of her skin against his own. Her delicate touch sending thrills coursing through him, as her fingers trailed slowly up one of the legs he had wrapped around her.  Grasping the small sponge, he unhurriedly and gently bathed her.

“Mmmm.” Was all Hermione could manage, the tender rhythmic motion of his hand combined with the warmth, the relaxing scent and the music, transporting her into a trance like state.  As his long fingers brushed over her sensitive breasts, arousal flooded her body. His deft touch, combined with the odd sensation of the sponge, was brief, but incredibly erotic. Hermione pressed back against him, relishing the feel of his taut body against hers.

“I could stay like this forever.” She purred at him.

“I think we might get a little stiff and very wrinkled.” Lucius suggested, his fingers continuing their cleansing but sensual assault on her tingling body.

Hermione smacked him good-humouredly, the sound accentuated by the water, sending more of it cascading onto the floor.

“Well you’ve ruined it now, but I do like the sound of a little stiff.”

“You are incorrigible?” He chastised teasingly, gently pressing himself against her. His body more than a little stiff.

“You know I’ve never shared a bath with anyone before.” He volunteered.

Hermione loved the fact that she was a first. She doubted there was very much Lucius Malfoy hadn’t done in his life, but for it to be something so simple and yet so intimate delighted her.

“Well, that is unless you include Draco”. He added, amusement and fondness lacing his voice.

Hermione was more than a little intrigued. Biting her lip, she was tempted to make a flippant remark, but something in his voice stopped her.

Lucius must have known exactly what was going through Hermione’s mind as he continued: “He was only a toddler at the time I hasten to add.”

A little lump suddenly forming in Hermione’s throat at the image his revelation conjured up.

“He used to hate water. He would scream the house down when we tried to bath him, or wash his hair. The only way to get him to do either was to get in with him.”

The picture of a terrible two, in the guise of Draco filled her imagination. His little face all red, under a mop of downy blonde hair as angry as his screams filled the manor.  She pictured Lucius washing that soft baby blonde hair, careful that the suds didn’t get in his eyes and cause further tantrums.

“Fortunately he grew out of it……..”

Lucius voice trailed off, Hermione heard a tinge of sadness in his words.  She twisted in the water, more foam and water spilled onto the floor, as she rested flat against her husband.

“What were you going to say?” She asked, her chin resting on his chest as she looked up into his reflective face.

He stroked her hair with his wet fingers. His pale grey eyes fixed on her face.

“You know me too well.” His voice was quiet and thoughtful. “Until now, that was the closest, I ever felt to my son. I missed out on so much after that.  I was so wrapped up and distracted by….by other things. Foolish things, things that really didn’t matter but which I thought were more important.”

Hermione smiled reassuring at Lucius. It was an odd place for such a deep confession, yet it was beautifully intimate.

 “You mustn’t dwell on what you missed out on.  You are close now and Draco turned out to be a fine young man.”

 Hermione never thought she would hear herself say that, but then she never imaged half of what had happened over the last few months.

“You had something to do with that Lucius.”

A small smile tugged at his mouth, gratitude suddenly filling his eyes: “And so did you. Your friendship with Draco, it’s………..”

Hermione placed a soapy wet finger on Lucius lips. “No Lucius, he’s your son. Everything was already there, it just needed to be nurtured.  Perhaps those hard edges needed a little tempering, and I brought out the softer side in him, but he’s you. I see it more and more, every day. ”

“Hopefully, he will not make the same mistakes as I.” Again his voice and face took on a little reflective sadness.

Hermione couldn’t fail to notice his eyes drifting to the faded mark on his arm.

“We all make mistakes, big and small, it is part of life, part of growing up. But you are there to guide him now, what more could he ask for?”

Lucius struggled to respond to her heartfelt words. Her voice might have been soft and indulgent but he could hear the strength in their undertones. One of the traits that made his wife a true Gryffindor.

“I think, Draco considers you the little sister he always wanted.” Lucius dropped his lips to Hermione’s brow.  Foam floated onto her cheek with the movement in the confined space. He brushed it away, smiling.

“It was the one thing he asked for every year for his birthday, until he was about 6 and then he suddenly stopped asking.”

Hermione was on very shaky ground here. Unknowingly and with incredibly good timing, Lucius was giving her the perfect opportunity to tell him her news, but she found the need to ask him why Draco never got his sibling overwhelming her curiosity.

“Narcissa, had a very difficult pregnancy and an equally difficult birth.”

Hermione listened in silence, as without asking or prompting Lucius volunteered the answer to her unspoken question. It might sound odd, but Hermione liked that he spoke to her unhindered about his past.

“After Draco was born, she said she didn’t want to go through that again and she wouldn’t. That was the end of it.”

“What about you?” Hermione ventured quietly and tentatively.

The look on Lucius Malfoy’s face as he spoke, almost reduced Hermione to tears, both of joy and of utter desolation. She found it hard to believe that Narcissa could weald such power over her then husband. But she had herself come to realise that Lucius Malfoy hid a much softer gentler side, and even in his younger days, realised he was not likely to go against the wishes of his wife, whatever the cost.

“I didn’t get a say or a choice. After all it wasn’t me that had to endure any of it.”

The defeat in his voice was apparent. His grey eyes clouded with wistful sadness, his words twisting Hermione’s heart.

 “I think, a daughter would have changed many things in my life. Would have softened my cold heart and maybe even taken my life down a very different path. The only sin I might have then be accused of would have been spoiling her unashamedly, as she wound me around her little finger.”

Hermione found it hard to comprehend how someone could look so happy and sad all at the same time. But Lucius Malfoy’s handsome face was etched with both of those emotions. The words were out before she could stop them.

“Do you still feel that way now?” She bit her lip, chewing hard on the soft flesh.

Hermione felt a little rumble of laughter ripple through Lucius’ chest, matching the smile that lifted his lips.

“You have already warmed my cold heart Hermione. Taken my life down a path I never expected. But would I spoil a daugh……..” The warmth in Lucius pale grey eyes changed…….changed to a sparkling joyous questioning, his sudden movement sending even more foaming oily water cascading onto the wooden floor.

“Hermione……..are you, are we. Are…..?”

Relief and happiness flooded through Hermione, there was no way Lucius could contain the happiness in his face or the excitement from his rather sparse selection of words. For fear her voice would crack, Hermione simply nodded. Finding herself crushed tightly against her elated husband. There was now more water on the floor than there was in the tub.

He lifted her almost reverently from the practically empty bath and wrapped her in one of the soft towels. Depositing her on the large four poster bed which dominated the bedroom. As he knelt before her, Hermione found herself on the receiving end of a barrage of questions.  The first of which was ridiculously “How?”

Her response to draw Lucius a diagram had been met with a familiar raised eyebrow which just added to Hermione’s happiness and her giggles.  How, was closely followed by “When?”

From what Madame Pomfrey had told Hermione before she had left the hospital, it appeared the child had probably been conceived at the very beginning of December. Hermione had blushed furiously at the time, recalling her encounter with Lucius in Scrivenshafts. She found her face suffused with crimson once more as she imparted the information to her husband and that their child would be due at the end of August.

Lucius’ laughter had not quite been what she had been expecting.

“Hmm, don’t some Muggles have a habit of naming their children after places of conception?”

Lucius found his amusement hard to contain, the look on Hermione’s face was priceless, shock, turning to horror, before she eventually poked the fun back at him.

“Oh I can just see it eleven years from now …… Hogsmeade or possibly Scrivenshaft Malfoy getting his or her Hogwarts letter.”

Hermione had once again found herself crushed within Lucius’ embrace, revelling in his happiness as well as her own.  The towel that she had been swathed in fell away, leaving her naked on the bed. Lucius placed his large hand on her belly. His touch sending a bolt of heat searing through Hermione like she had never know before. His hand filled with so much love. Love in every sense of the word, she and her body responded in every sense of that same word.

Hermione wriggled back onto the bed, once again taking in the beauty of Lucius’ naked form.  Heat pooling between her legs and her already sensitive breasts, which she found tightening and tingling in anticipation.  She held out her arms to him, and he took a somewhat hesitant step towards her.

“Are you sure?” He asked, remembering how Narcissa couldn’t bear to be touched, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Hermione or upset her.

The look of puzzlement of Hermione’s face changed rapidly to one of consternation and disbelief, when she realised what Lucius meant.

“Merlin, of course I am sure. Little Biro isn’t due for just over six months…..you not touching me for all that time, you have to be kidding me!” Her voice rose an octave or two at the unthinkable prospect.

“Biro?” Lucius said, his face steeped in puzzlement, as he moved onto the bed. His hand softly cupping Hermione’s firm breast at her open invitation.

“It’s a muggle type of pen.” She explained, a wry smile curving her lips, a hushed moan escaping from between them, as Lucius slowly and very gently tweaked the swelling peak.

“Very amusing Mrs Malfoy.” He said, before his mouth replaced his hand, his wicked tongue teasing the hardened nipple.

Hermione never failed to arouse him, sometimes just subtly, but his body was always aware of her, revelling in her scent, the simple sight of her and of course her touch. The knowledge that she was carrying his child, whilst filling him with a love that made him feel like he was going to burst, filled him with an overwhelming desire that he had never experienced before.     

He loved that she still desired him so much, wanted him so much. His other hand came up to torment its twin, he could already, miraculously feel the subtle changes in her body. Her small pert breasts feeling fuller, more rounded to his touch. He found his already aroused body hardening yet further as he envisaged how her body would change.  She was always incredibly responsive to him, even from that very first day, but now she seemed even more so, wanting more from him.  He hadn’t thought about it before, but as the briefest of touches elicited another powerful response, he realised they had become more earthy, even a little feral, it triggered a similar reaction in his own body. 

He recalled the dismay in her words a few moments ago at the thought of him not touching her for the next six months, and as her small fingers curled tightly around his erection, Lucius realised this was going to be a very different pregnancy to Narcissa’s.  


	33. Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the penultimate chapter comes one last little lemon feast for you all, I do hope you enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it might be almost the end but the usual housekeeping notes apply. Not that I think anyone cares much any more. There is on more chapter to go and an epilogue.

 

“Is there something I could do for you Mister Malfoy?” Hermione asked in hushed tones against his ear, her small fingers still sensually stroking his silky, rigid flesh.

A small flush creeping over her body at her somewhat bold offer. Lucius might be her husband, but sometimes she still felt nervous of her own sexual abilities, against the experienced, older wizard.  

Lucius felt the very unfamiliar fingers of submission dance along his spine.  Capitulation seeping into his veins, curiosity pulsing it around his body, wondering what exactly Hermione had in mind.  

“It would appear, Madam, I am…….. in every sense of the words, entirely in your hands.”

“Hmm and so you are.”

She squeezed his hardened flesh playfully before pushing him onto his back and straddling him.   Her slender legs sitting astride his broad thighs effectively trapping his much larger body with her small frame. Her weight, what there was of it, pinning him to the mattress. Lucius had no intention of moving, revelling in the feeling of utter submission that was engulfing his aroused body.

Hermione had carte blanche. His body felt deliciously erotic between her legs, the knowledge that he was completely at ease and relaxed gave her a wonderful sense of exhilaration and authority. Power was after all a potent aphrodisiac. 

“Close your eyes.” She instructed him quietly, but firmly.

Lucius did as she asked, feeling her soft hand travelling almost tentatively over his body. He felt her weight shift from his thighs, until he couldn’t feel her at all.  He was tempted to open his eyes, something Hermione must have sensed.

“Keep your eyes closed.” Her voice was still quiet and firm, but sounding a little further away.

He obeyed without question, feeling her fingers curl around his foot. Her thumb brushed lightly over the ball, causing him to jump slightly at the tickling sensation.  He felt his leg raised slightly as his foot connected with her lips. Lucius couldn’t withhold the gasp that slipped from his lips at the oddly erotic sensation.  The action seeming to connect directly with his groin.

Her lips travelled across his foot, the hand that had clasped his ankle now drifting slowly up his leg to his calf. Her lips followed in the wake of her fingers, Lucius felt the occasional nip from her teeth or lick from her tongue as she moved unhurriedly from his foot to his inner thigh, where she stopped. Only to replicate the same sensual path on the other foot and limb.

As her lips connected once more with the sole of his foot, Lucius practically felt his cock jerk, so erotic was the new and rather unusual sensation. He groaned uninhibited, as her warm tongue once again reached his inner thigh and stopped.   His cock was begging for her touch, for her mouth, but he noticed she purposefully avoided any further sexual contact as such.

Rising up, she scooted up his body, her small round arse, resting lightly just below his tummy, mere millimetres from hardened flesh, but skilfully eluding it.

Lucius could feel the heat radiating from his own body, where his skin connected with Hermione’s, it practically scorched.  The sweet soft lips which had deliciously tortured his lower extremities now turning their attention to his upper limbs.  Lucius groaned as she sucked a finger erotically, her tongue moving as it might do if she were fellating him, finding his hips rising against her arse as her mouth moved up and down.  Her wet tongue tickled the palm of his hand, in the same way it had done his foot.  Her lips pausing to kiss the pulse that beat rapidly in his wrist before she continued to nip and lick her way up his arm. 

Lucius felt almost as if he were bound by some invisible restraints. Wanting to reach out and touch her but not being able to, so intense and incapacitating was the pleasure she was inflicting on his uncharacteristically submissive body. 

This time her lips reached the hard blade of his shoulder before stopping and repeating the action on his other arm. Once more sucking enticingly on his finger, brushing her lips sensually over his fast beating pulse, and unhurriedly moving up his arm, the muscles and veins twitching to her lips and tongue.  Lucius felt her lean forward, his eyes remaining firmly closed as he savoured the enhanced sensations blindness brought.

Hermione brought her lips to his flat hard male nipples, circling the puckering flesh, before biting lightly on the small bud in the centre.  She felt his hips beneath her once more rise from the bed, pressing against her.

“Fu…hmmm.”  Lucius resisted the profanity that was about to fall from his lips.  There was a time and place for such language, he didn’t feel that this was ……..

“Say it.” Hermione’s lips had moved from his chest to his ear. 

Her hair still tethered from the bath earlier fell across his face. Her wet shaven lips grazing his midriff as she moved sensually against him. The warmth of her breath grazing his ear as she practically hissed against it. There was that earthy feralness again.  Perhaps this was the time and the place after all. He remembered how her words had affected him in the potions classroom, realising this was something she wanted. 

  “Fuck that feels good.”

The only time Hermione had heard Lucius use, what she could call graphic language was when he’d read from the book she had been reading at Christmas, she had loved how it had sounded on his cut glass tones.  Hearing his aristocratic voice using such coarse language, lit a very hot fire indeed within the young witch.  She noticed her little muscle throbbing in Lucius’ jaw, her lips moved to it, her tongue tracing it. She rubbed her soft cheek against his slightly stubbled one.

“Mmm so do you.” She whispered. Wriggling backwards so her arse finally connected with his erection.

Lucius’ guttural moan was peppered with further expletives.  His words and reactions fanning the already blazing heat within Hermione.

Not to be subject to the penetrative Malfoy stare gave her even more courage. Her mouth covering his, her thumbs brushing over his pebble hard nipples. Every inch of her own body tingling or throbbing, in some way responding to him.  She pressed harder against him, wet with need. Her tongue drifted across the parted seam of his lips.

“Tell me _exactly_ what you want Lucius”. Her mouth teasingly brushing his as she spoke. Her fingers now biting into his flesh.

Lucius didn’t know what he wanted, but at the same time he wanted everything. Her now assured touch, her sweet mouth, her wet feminine heat. He groaned at the thought of all three. But as her soft rounded arse moved against him, and her silky wet juices coated his groin he knew what he needed…. to savour that delicious warm feeling of her covering his throbbing aroused flesh, as she moved and it tightened around him.

Lucius opened his eyes, Hermione’s tongue was wandering over his lips, and her bright brown eyes were fixed firmly upon him, almost daring him to tell her.

“I want you to sit on my cock.” Lucius instructed his voice slow and measured, low pitched and authoritative, accentuating his noble tones.

He didn’t miss the catlike look of satisfaction that crossed Hermione’s face as she silently obeyed his instruction, or the wicked intensity that laced her delicate features as she straddled his swollen flesh.  

He wanted to thrust himself deep inside her, enjoy the satisfaction that only this kind of intimacy could bring, but he didn’t. He felt her muscles adjust and tighten around him, moving back and forth, her full breasts jutting towards him as she reached back, her fingers feeling where his cock entered her. 

Lucius lifted his hips at her touch, a breathless “Fuck” once more tumbling from his almost shocked mouth. Her soft but firm fingers and her warm wet body together around his sensitive flesh felt unbearably good.

She looked and felt so wanton and utterly beautiful sat astride him. Lucius reached out, her breasts were high and perky, her nipples hard and begging for attention, he pinched them between his fingers.  Her still slender waist widened into curvaceous hips. His cock throbbing inside her as his eyes lingered upon her clean shaven lips.

With Lucius fully sheathed inside her, Hermione ground herself against him, moving rhythmically, her face contorted with pleasure. The steady tempo of her body increasing his arousal, the sound of their juices and her shallow breathing turning him on all the more. He could feel the pressure building in his body, an overwhelming need to fill her racing through his blood. With every utterance he made, every moan, he could feel the vigour with which she rode him increase. Lucius bucked his own hips upwards, both of them crying out in pleasure. 

His hands were gripping her hips, bruising them almost from the strength of his hold and the intensity of passion. Again he thrust upwards, harder into her sweet silky flesh.  Again they moaned in unison, the animalistic sounds reverberating around the room as Hermione rotated her hips against his hard flesh. Her inner walls were hot and slick around him pulling him in, deeper, fuller. As they tightened yet further about his shaft he knew she was about to cum, he too was on the brink. But he suddenly found himself much closer to the edge.

“Fuck I have to come” The words were out before he could stop them. His voice was low and rasping his breathing shallow. 

His coarse almost strangled and aberrant exclamation, sent a fresh uncontrollable wave of arousal through Hermione. Climax enveloping her body, she threw her head back and impaled herself harder on his erection her muscles constricting around him like a silky vice. It was Lucius’ undoing he could hold back no longer, his body swelling and throbbing in utter ecstasy, the skin stretched taut to bursting. His body began to convulse, a tidal wave of pleasure coursing through his veins, every nerve ending in his body sensitised to the very limits.  He was at the point of no return.

He thrust upwards long and hard, his body dissolving in absolute rapture.  Pushing deeper and harder into her tight wetness, his seed shooting into her over and over filling her. His groin practically exploding with pleasure along with the rest of his body. The more he came the harder his fingers bit into her flesh, she cried out, it was not a cry of pain, the look on her face was the personification of ecstasy not agony.  She continued to ride him, over his own guttural moans Lucius heard her cry out again. Watching through his own climactic haze as her tongue moved across her mouth drowning in her own pleasure. He pressed hard against her his pelvis grinding against hers as the last of his passion spilled into her.

Hermione fell across Lucius, her heart beating frantically, her body soaked in a soft sheen of sweat. Ever since their very first meeting, and she meant that very first meeting, this man had evoked a spark in her, admittedly it was a very different one to the one he now ignited. But passion took on many different guises, she was happy with the face it now wore.

She lay sated on her husband’s body, her head resting high on his chest as it rose and fell beneath her.  She felt his arms wrap around her and snuggled into the blissful sensation.  She had never been so happy. The last few months had read like a sugary romantic novel but she wasn’t complaining. Hermione had, even at such a young age, enjoyed enough intrigue, twists and turns in her life. It was nice to be allowed to enjoy the simple things that most young women dreamed about, a handsome man wandering into their life. A whirlwind romance, a beautiful wedding and a baby on the way.  Not that you could really tag Lucius Malfoy as one of the simple things in life, she smiled against him at the notion, feeling his hand stroking her hair.  She looked into his handsome face, those piercing grey eyes watching her intensely.

“I have a confession to make.” Hermione said lifting her head slightly, her hands resting against the strong wall of his chest.

Lucius raised that eyebrow, now as familiar as the Malfoy smirk.

“With everything that has been happening, I haven’t had time to get you a Valentines gift. I had planned special meal and romantic evening but…..”

Lucius’ fingers brushed her cheek, resting under her chin and lifting it slightly to look fully at him.

“My sweet darling wife, you have given me the most precious gifts a man could want.  They might not come neatly wrapped or in small boxes but, they are priceless. They are the very essence of Valentine’s day. Tonight could not have been more perfect.”

Hermione shifted slightly enabling her to reach Lucius mouth, brushing her lips softly across his, her eyes bright with emotion at his emotive words.

“I did pick up a little something for you.” Lucius voice took on a rather conspiratory tone.

Hermione shifted further, her palms resting on Lucius chest, curiosity lighting her face.  She heard him accio something and a tiny box drifted across the room.  Her husband smiled as she lifted the lid. A tiny jewel encrusted pin, sat on a bed of dark green velvet. It was in the shape of the M, which was at the centre of the Malfoy crest, and was made from diamonds and emeralds. It was no bigger than her thumbnail, but was a perfect adornment to the tiny strand of green silk, still miraculously tethering her hair, where Lucius fixed it gently.

“It too is enchanted, if ever you need me, you need only to touch it, I will know.”

Hermione brimmed with joy. “I love you Lucius. I don’t think I could be happier.”

“And I love you too Hermione, you have made me happier than I deserve to be, or than I ever thought possible.”

She wanted to respond, of course he deserved to be happy, but his strong arms wrapped tightly around her, his warm lips caressing hers. They robbed her not only of breath but of coherent thought. She melted once more into his embrace.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

“So that is why you passed out the other day.” The words fell from Draco Malfoy’s lips without a second thought.

Oh shit, Hermione’s heart sank. The conversation about her remaining at Hogwarts now she was pregnant, had yet to arise, but she knew it would only be a matter of time. It would be hard enough convincing Lucius to let her stay at school, without giving him further ammunition.

Fortunately, his son’s obvious joy and enthusiasm at the prospect of a sibling, even at this stage in his life, seemed to distract Lucius. As did his recanting of the same tale Lucius had told Hermione the previous evening.

“Every year on my birthday, I asked for a little sister.” His face flushed slightly as he glanced at his indulgent father.

Draco’s comment seeming to go almost unnoticed as the conversation moved on.

“I guess now I really get to play the big brother.”

“At least you will not fight over toys.” Lucius offered.

Hermione laughed sipping on her tea as the three of them sat in the living room of the small house. Lucius had owled his son first thing, requesting Draco stop by if he was coming into Hogsmeade. Just before lunch the younger Malfoy had arrived.

“I wouldn’t bet on it. When little Biro gets a shiny new broomstick for his or her birthday…..”

“Biro?” Draco repeated the rather alien word, stopping Hermione mid-sentence.

Lucius didn’t miss a beat, although his grey eyes twinkled mischievously, a smile curling his lip at Hermione’s flushed face.

“It’s Hermione’s nickname for the baby, as of course we haven’t even thought about names.”

“Right.” Draco looked from his unperturbed father to his rather embarrassed school friend. He was clearly missing something, but decided it best not to ask.  Having the distinct impression, it wasn’t something he actually wanted to hear.

Having managed to escape the Hogwarts conversation once, Hermione was certain she wouldn’t get away with a second time when Draco once again brought school up, all be it in fun.

“Hey _Granger,_ you realise you might not be able to reach the desk, by the time we sit out exams.”

Hermione looked daggers at Draco, who assumed it was merely his reference to her becoming fat. As he saw her glance nervously at Lucius, realisation suddenly dawned and he bit his lip.  He wanted to say something that would redeem himself, but for fear of making the situation worse he remained uncomfortably silent.

Lucius’ piercing gaze flitted between his son and his young wife.  If there was one thing he had learned from Narcissa’s pregnancy it was, you do not upset or antagonise a woman with raging hormones. He’d had the bruises, the headaches and sore ears to prove it. Whilst not exactly enamoured with the idea of Hermione remaining at school, he knew she was in safe hands. All she would have at the Manor, unless he employed someone to keep watch on her, and he knew how that would go down, would be the house elves. At Hogwarts she would be surrounded by people all day, those people included his son and a very capable nurse.  She also had a little cluster of gems in her hair which would let him know in a heartbeat that she needed him.  A wry smile lifted Lucius’ lips as his eyes fell upon his son.

Hermione held her breath, watching Lucius grey eyes narrow, she waited for the inevitable confrontation.

“I think reaching the table will be least of Hermione’s concerns. Fatigue and what I think is termed _baby brain_ might not be conducive to sitting ones exams.” Lucius did his best to keep his face straight knowing full well, his response was not what his son or his wife were expecting.

Hermione and Draco exchanged what could only be deemed surprised looks.  Draco breathing an audible sigh of relief, whilst Hermione viewed her husband with more than a little cynicism. She didn’t want to push her luck but curiosity got the better of her.

“You mean you don’t mind me staying on to finish my exams?” The trepidation in her voice was clear.

Lucius once more looked from his wife to his thus far only child. Keeping with his belief that with Hermione, honesty was the best policy.

“I would not put it quite like that, I would rather you were at home taking it easy for at least some of the time. But whilst I might be a selfish man, who loves his wife, I am not a fool.  Nor am I stupid enough to argue with or upset a pregnant woman.  I learnt about raging hormones the hard way.”

He glanced at Draco, his son looking suitably bemused at the inference. 

“I also realise that at school you will be surrounded by people who care deeply about you and whom will keep a watchful eye on you, Draco included, no doubt.”

It was Hermione who cast a glance in Draco’s direction, having seen his reaction a few days ago when she had fainted, she knew that to be all to true.

“The Manor is empty a good part of the day and I would worry about you being alone for such long periods of time. So as long as you promise me to take care of yourself, I have reservations, but not objections.”

A stunned silence engulfed the room, before Hermione finally sprung from her seat, threw her arms around Lucius and kissed him hard on the lips.

“I think that is my cue to leave.” Draco announced rising from his own seat. “Don’t worry father I will keep an eye on _Granger._ It won’t be difficult keeping a Gryffindor in check.”

He winked at Hermione as he moved to the door, and as was the norm she childishly poked her tongue out at him.

“You realise there are now TWO Malfoy’s in Gryffindor Ferret.”

Draco shook his blonde head, in mock disgust, his blue eyes twinkling. To Hermione’s surprise he kissed her on the forehead.

“Hmmm and I have a very strange feeling they are both women, and are going to make my life hell.”

Hermione couldn’t repress the laughter which fell from her lips at Draco’s words. Knowing he meant hell in the best possible way. Her body was already buoyant with the joy that her school friend had been so happy with their news. Relief had followed closely behind with Lucius’ logic about her staying on at school. She was wrong about the romantic novel she had likened herself to earlier. This was far more perfect than that, she hoped upon hope that it wouldn’t change.  Life had never been that straightforward or easy for Hermione Granger, being Hermione Malfoy ironically seemed far less complicated and idyllic.

Lucius was right, despite the jewelled pin that shone with love and magic in her hair, you didn’t need material gifts for Valentine’s Day. Like her husband, Hermione was inundated with all the loving gifts she had, none of which had come in a box or gift wrapped. She placed her hand on her stomach and walked towards the man who had bestowed all those upon her.

 

 

 

 


	34. The Family Malfoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well my friends this is it. My last round of apologies and grateful thanks...AND the last official chapter of my "little one shot" There is a short epilogue which I will probably post in a few days, but this is really it. THANK you all for your kind reviews and follows. They have meant so much to this HP novice and I am soooooo glad that you have enjoyed it and stuck with me thus far.
> 
> Grateful thanks also goes to the wonderful JK Rowling whose characters are so perfect and easy to write and play with. Enjoy...

 

Much as she hated to admit it, and actually didn’t not out loud. Both Draco and Lucius had been quite right in their foresight.  Just as Draco had jokingly predicted, by the time Hermione sat her exams in June, even with over two months to go before “Biro” arrived, she could just about reach the desk. Sitting at the wooden table was not the most comfortable, on any part of her anatomy, although it was her back that seemed to be suffering the most.  Just as Lucius had predicted, she had struggled so much in the last few weeks to retain the knowledge that usually came without a second thought, fatigue making it even worse, so she was determined not to be defeated.  She couldn’t help but breathe an enormous, a word she felt quite synonymous with, sigh of relief as the last exam ended. 

“Come on Tubbs lets, get you up.”

She might be a married woman and a heavily pregnant one to boot, but Hermione was not averse to the childish act of sticking her tongue out at Draco, as had become a habit over recent months. Even more so since his obvious delight at no longer being able to call her Granger had changed into calling her “Tubbs”.  Feeling it could have been a lot worse and that considering her size now Draco was actually being kind, after an initial weak willed protest she said nothing. Silently enjoying his latest term of endearment.

The young blonde pulled her gently to her feet.

“Boy am I glad those are over, have to admit thanks to my excellent tutor, I don’t think it was a total disaster.”

Draco smiled at Hermione, chivalrously offering her his arm. Hermione, took it gratefully. She was tired, again something else she would not admit out loud. She felt if the exams had been any later in the term she might not have had the energy to study or sit them. But she had done it now, and was looking forward to returning home. Home who’d have thought she would ever call Malfoy Manor home, but it was her home and she couldn’t wait to get back to it, and to Lucius.  She and Draco would both be returning the following morning and other than crawling into her bed and sleeping for a week, Hermione couldn’t think of anything she would rather do.

“The way my brain is working, or rather isn’t Ferret, I think you’ve probably done better than me”.

She squeezed his arm as they walked back to the Gryffindor common room.

The sight of Draco Malfoy in Gryffindor Tower had initially caused more than a few raised eyebrows and not entirely hushed voices. Hermione wasn’t sure who was actually more horrified at the occurrence, the inhabitants of Gryffindor House or Draco himself. In an unprecedented move the headmistress had given the somewhat stunned younger Malfoy, her express permission to be there. Something Hermione and Draco both felt had been from a little outside pressure from one of the school governors.  But as the months had passed by, no one had given him a second glance, in fact he had actually become quite friendly with one or two, something Hermione teased him mercilessly about. Some of the first years seemed in total awe and a little fear of the tall blonde.

“What are you smirking at?” Draco had asked her one afternoon as they sat revising.

Two rather smitten Gryffindor second years almost walked into a pillar as they starred at the Slytherin parked on one of the sofas.

“A little déjà vu. I remember looking up at your father in Flourish and Blotts when I was about the same age. I wasn’t quite so overawed as they clearly are with you, he was hardly my poster boy, and despite my words I was more than a little scared of him.”

Draco had laughed over his book, putting it in his lap. “Yeah I remember that day, the shop was full of women swooning over Gilderoy Lockhart.” He raised his blue eyes skyward.  “You spouted something about fear to my father, can’t remember exactly, I must be getting old.”

This time it was Hermione who had laughed out loud at both his words and the notion. “Ancient” She had responded shaking her head.”…… And I said _fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself.”_

Draco’s own laughter had filled the quiet tower, the sound causing the two second years to glance around even more longingly at the lounging blonde. He had flashed them a wickedly devastating smile, and they had fled, flushed and giggling from the room.

“Yes yes, I remember, I also remember the look on my father’s face, like you had deigned to speak to him. Oh and I remember he said, And you must be Miss Granger, Draco’s told me all about you. What a grass.”

“Both of you.” Hermione had replied.

The two friends had dissolved into fits of laughter until they had cried. Hermione holding her fast swelling tummy.

A few weeks after that, Hermione had found herself once more in the Gryffindor Common room with Draco, and once again in tears.  These had not been caused by the younger Malfoy nor had they been laughter induced. In fact something quite the opposite.

Minerva McGonagall had called Hermione to her office one afternoon for tea. This was quite a regular occurrence, but even more so since Hermione had found out she was pregnant. The moment Hermione had entered the headmistress’ office, she had sensed there was more to the invitation than just tea and shortbread. As forthright as ever, it hadn’t taken the honest Scot long to get to the point.

“Mr Potter is coming to Hogwarts the week after next.  He is going to give our first Albus Dumbledore Memorial Lecture.”

Hermione had known that the Memorial Lecture had been given the go ahead by the Ministry of Magic and of course the school governors, but hadn’t realised it would take place before she left. Thinking it would perhaps kick off the new term in September. It stood to reason that Harry would give the inaugural speech.  It also stood to reason he would want to see her whilst he was visiting.  Not that they had been in contact very much since her marriage and his owl earlier in the year, voicing his disapproval.

“It will be nice to see him again.” Hermione had told McGonagall, putting on a smile as she sipped on her tea.  

Normally she would have been delighted, but Harry had made his feelings clear, and the fact that she had hardly heard from him or Ginny meant he clearly still felt the same.

The wily Scot knew there was some tension between the two old friends and that her marriage to Lucius Malfoy was the cause. She was also well aware that they hadn’t seen each other since well before Hermione had married the Dark Wizard.  It wasn’t her place to interfere, she did however have a duty of care to her pupils, and she felt especially protective of Hermione, even with Harry Potter.

 

Harry had found Hermione in the Gryffindor common room during a free period, she had been curled up on the sofa, her eyes flittering shut as she had revised Alchemy.  Forgetting herself, Hermione had jumped up and thrown her arms around her long-time friend as she had seen him standing over her. Only to find herself pushed away as he realised not only was she married to Lucius Malfoy but pressed against him, despite her billowing robes, she was also pregnant.

Hermione had not kept her pregnancy a secret by any means. She just hadn’t gone around shouting it from the Hogwarts rooftops.  When she had last written to Harry or Ginny she hadn’t known herself, so she wasn’t concealing it from them. Their lack of correspondence over the last few months meant she hadn’t actually told either of them. At school, her robes concealed the growing bump by day and at other times more for comfort than anything else, Hermione chose to wear baggy jumpers or cardigans. It was only in the last few weeks that the bump had increased enough to make it more visible whatever she wore.

The horror in Harry’s eyes had wounded Hermione deeply, but she tried her best to conceal it.  She knew all too well how he felt about her marriage, as if he was going to feel any better about the fact she was carrying Lucius’ child. Her hand had fallen protectively to her tummy, her arm moving across the large bump. She had watched as the horror on Harry’s face had turned to one of almost disgust. 

Her big brown eyes had filled with tears as Harry had expressed his disbelief and hopes that she might have come to her senses.   Hermione had swallowed hard trying to contain the tears. Her raging hormones making her more emotional than ever.  Instinctively her hand went to her wedding band, which she toyed with nervously and then without thinking, to the tiny strand of green silk which secured her hair, and the small pin attached to it.  It tingled to her touch, and Hermione immediately felt Lucius’ comforting presence.  She immediately got Draco’s ominous presence. The solid wooden door to the Gryffindor Tower flying open, as Lucius’ son burst through it, as if the hounds of hell were at his heels.  He had immediately moved to a somewhat stunned Hermione’s side. His slender hand resting on the base of her spine.

“Potter.” Draco had spat in that familiar tone he used when addressing his old school nemesis.

Hermione didn’t want any unpleasantness between the two of them.  The confrontation between Lucius and Ron on the night of her wedding had been bad enough, she had a feeling that if Draco and Harry got into it, the sparks would really fly in more ways than one.

But it appeared that Draco was inheriting more than just looks from his father. His tone was equally as unhurried and menacing as Lucius’ he also held his temper just as Lucius had done. Hermione felt him reach for his wand but he made no attempt to draw it. Relying on words rather than actions. It appeared that Draco’s menacing verbal attack on Harry was as big a surprise to Harry himself as it was to Hermione. She felt Draco stiffen and pull himself up to his full height, his arm now fully across Hermione’s back.

“Potter…….if you have nothing pleasant or useful to say to Hermione. I would suggest that you leave. You’re a guest her now not a pupil, you don’t have the same privileges.” He paused a sneer curling his thin lip.

“You might not like that Hermione is a Malfoy, I get that, but it doesn’t mean you get to treat her with any less respect.”

Hermione could see the shock evident in Harry’s face. He might not like what Draco was saying, he might not like the fact it was Draco saying it, but he could not argue with the facts.  He also might be angry, disappointed and disgusted with her, but she could see deep down, the Harry who was her friend. Maybe there was hope for them, it just wasn’t right now.  Harry had looked almost sadly at Hermione before turning on his heel and leaving his former house common room.

Hermione sagged against Draco. “Thanks Draco, I wasn’t up to a confront…….how did you know”.

Draco smiled and tugged on the strand of silk in her hair brushing his thumb over the pin.

“You remember our conversation in the kitchen at Malfoy Manor about my father’s possessive magic?”

Hermione nodded, Lucius had told her she would only have to rub the pin and he would be there, but it didn’t explain Draco’s speedy arrival.

“My father charmed the pin as you know, but he also charmed it to me.”

Draco flashed the signet ring on his little finger at Hermione. It too bore the M at the centre of the Malfoy crest. If he couldn’t get to you then it would kinda reroute to me, when you tugged on it ……well here I am.”

Hermione had thrown her arms around Draco, under normal circumstance she would have been more than a match for Harry and his feelings about Lucius, her marriage, their baby. But she was tired, her brain wasn’t as sharp as it usually was and she was worried about her exams. Sparring with Harry was the last thing she wanted or needed. She was more than grateful to Draco for his intervention.

 

Bringing herself back to the present, she couldn’t help but feel a little sad as the young blonde escorted her to back to the same Tower for what was to be her last night here at Hogwarts.   So many memories, so many years.  She stroked her bump and looked forward to the memories that were to be made in the years to come.

The goodbyes to Madam Pomfrey, Hagrid and even Professor Snape had been a little teary. Bidding goodbye to Minerva McGonagall had caused the flood gates to open. It wasn’t that she wasn’t going to see them ever again, but it would never be the same.  She was now starting a very different chapter of her life. 

The man waiting for her and Draco when they arrived back at Kings Cross later in the day drove any tears away and put the familiar smile back on her face.  Other than sleepless nights and changing nappies, she had no clue what lie ahead, but she was looking forward to finding out.

 

“I am so pleased you are back home, I wanted you to finish school, but I wanted you here with me too.” Lucius whispered against her ear as they cuddled up on the sofa in his study later that evening.  

As the train had pulled into Kings Cross, Hermione had just wanted to, board the small train for Wiltshire and sleep. The surprising sight of her happy and handsome husband waiting for them had filled her with delight and renewed energy.

Hermione snuggled against Lucius, well as close as she could with the not so little “Biro” between them. His soft warm hand rested under her loose top, on her swollen tummy. She had the distinct impression the impatient child knew its father’s touch. Never failing to kick every time his hand came to rest against her stomach.  There was going to be an unbreakable bond between this child and its father. 

“I am so pleased to be home, we missed you. I am glad I went back. But I am happy to be home with ………my family.”

Hermione also had the distinct impression the bond between “Biro” and his or her brother was going to be equally as strong. The child seeming to recognise Draco’s voice and moving about whenever it heard him.

“What’s that smirk for?” Lucius asked rubbing his hand gently over her bump. Thrilling at the feel of a small foot connecting with the palm of his hand.  He had only felt Draco kicking once through Narcissa’s heavy robes. But he was constantly touching or caressing Hermione, feeling his child wriggling around or kicking.

“I was thinking about Draco actually.” Hermione’s hand covered Lucius’ as the child continued to kick out.

“Little Biro here was kicking up a storm the other day and I asked him if he wanted to feel.” Hermione laughed outright.

“His face was a picture, he was horrified, but I grabbed his hand so he could feel.  I will never forget how his face changed. I swear now this little one knows his voice as well as it knows your touch.”

Lucius smiled, his face for of love for his family, his wife, his son and little “Biro”.

“We really should think or perhaps a name or two, or I have a horrible feeling that in 11 years’ time a Hogwarts letter will be coming addressed to Biro Malfoy.”

“It has a certain ring to it don’t you think?” Hermione teased her husband, tugging on a strand of blonde hair and pulling him closer.

Brushing his lips to hers he whispered against her mouth. “No!” The word turning into a low moan as her small hand brushed against his groin. His body immediately reacting to his wife’s touch. 

Their desire for each other had not waned in any way, in fact if anything it had increased.  It had been with a somewhat red face that Hermione had asked Madam Pomfrey if she and Lucius could continue to enjoy the “physical side of their marriage” as they baby grew and she herself got bigger.

The nurse had smiled indulgently at Hermione, a girl she had known since childhood, who now carried her own child, and had assured her as long as there was no pressure on the baby and of course they still wanted to, they could indeed still enjoy the “physical side of their marriage”.  There had been a meeting of knowing eyes on both sides and Hermione has blushed even more furiously. There was no doubt that they would “still want to”. 

Initially nothing had changed, but as Hermione got bigger Lucius became far gentler in his love making, something which he discovered clearly frustrated his wife. He got to read the signs and gave her free reign to take advantage of him when she was in need of something more forceful.  Even since very early in her pregnancy, far from quelling her desire or her need for him, it seemed to have increased it, a couple of times Lucius had joked that he wasn’t sure he would be able to keep up.

 

As her fingers continued to trace the outline of his swelling arousal, Lucius’ hand moved from Hermione’s tummy for one of her breasts. The much larger nipple already puckered and hard.  Hermione had told him they were very sensitive sometimes, even to the point of pain. He was always very aware of that and he moved his long fingers softly over the pebbled bud.   She arched against him, another sign he had learnt to read very well, the pressure of his fingers increasing slightly. 

“Mmmmm”

Fell from Hermione’s lips as they melded against his own, her own touch now much more insistent. Lucius heard her mutter something else and suddenly found them both naked. He quirked an eyebrow and smiled against her mouth.

“Hmm, if wandless……..mmm……..magic was part of any one of your……aaah…….exams my dear.” Lucius tried to catch his breath as Hermione’s hand roamed over his body.

“I would say you passed with flying colours.”

 

As if happened and of course with no surprise to anyone except Hermione herself, she passed all of her exams with flying colours.  Attaining outstanding grades in all of her chosen subjects. Draco was equally as shocked with his own results doing just as well as Hermione, only failing to get an outstanding in Herbology but he was happy enough with exceeds expectations. As was Lucius who practically glowed with pride at the achievements of his wife, but especially at those of his son, for which Hermione didn’t mind in the least. 

They were all seated in the kitchen at Malfoy Manor, the three house elves flapping around, they were extremely protective of The Mistress and now wouldn’t let her even make tea.

“Well I don’t think any of my N.E.W.Ts will be much good for changing nappies.” Hermione said rubbing her tummy and sipping on her tea.

Both Lucius and Draco had laughed at the feigned dejection on her face. Knowing she didn’t care in the slightest. She was of course delighted with her results and that despite everything she had achieved them. But her biggest challenge and new full time job was only a few short weeks away.

“What about you Ferret.” She asked a still clearly chuffed Draco.

He continued to gaze at his recently owled results. Before looking from Hermione to his father.

“Honestly I don’t have a clue, I was convinced I wouldn’t pass, so I hadn’t even thought about it”.

Lucius cleared his throat, smiling at his beautiful young wife, he turned proudly and seriously to his son.

“Draco, I have no intention of making the same mistakes I made with you, both as a baby and as a child. I have my work at the Ministry and of course the Malfoy business to run. Doing the two will keep me away from home far too much for my liking. And I am sure Hermione’s.” He took Hermione’s hand in his own, raising it to his lips and kissing it before continuing.

 How would you like to take over?”

Draco looked at his father incredulously. Run the Malfoy Empire was he serious? He opened his mouth to speak and close it again. Several times.

“But father”. He said eventually. “I know nothing…..”

Lucius raised his hand, knowing precisely what Draco was going to say.

“I think we have a few weeks before little Biro arrives, I will spend as much time as I can with you, going over the points you will need to know. Hermione tells me you are an excellent and very quick study when you put your mind to it. And of course you can still ask me things, I am not going anywhere.”

Draco was still incredulous, but his exams results paled into insignificance against the offer his father had just made him. He felt he had won his father’s love a while ago now, he had earned his respect but now to have his complete trust was a feeling like no other.  He smiled in acceptance at Lucius and beamed gratefully at his school friend. Everything that now surrounded the three, almost four of them was down to her.

 

Three became four some seven weeks later, with the impatient arrival of little Biro, who was officially named, Adelphia Lucinda Malfoy. 

“I think I preferred Biro” Draco said after meeting his tiny sibling for the first time.

A tired but elated Hermione explained patiently to her sarcastic step son, that the name meant “Beloved sister.” She wouldn’t swear to it, through her tired eyes, but she was almost certain she saw Draco’s eyes mist over.

She was very certain, she saw tears in her husband’s beautiful grey eyes, when she woke some time later. He was sitting in the window of their bedroom cradling his beautiful daughter in his arms. Her eyes a mix of both her father’s slate grey and her brother bright blue. She knew that would not change, whatever they say about all babies being born with blue eyes, Hermione knew that was one Malfoy trait her daughter would never loose.  Her small smattering of hair was as blonde as them both, with, even at only a few hours old a hint of her mother’s wild curls. Hermione watched silently from the bed. Tears of pure joy brimming in her own big brown eyes.

The tiny infant reclined happily in her father’s large secure hands as he gazed down upon her. Her big blue grey eyes fluttering shut. Lucius smiled at his daughter, his daughter, he could never have imagined uttering those two very simple words. His chest ached with love for her and for the other beautiful female in his life. The woman who had given him everything it was just about possible to give another human being, and so much more.

Why? Was a question he still often found himself asking, he didn’t deserve it. Lucius Malfoy had been given a second chance, gratitude didn’t begin to cover it. He was going to do everything in his power to get it right this time, with his daughter he had a clean slate. With Draco, thanks to Hermione he had a relationship with his son he had never thought possible. He was going to cherish every day with each and every one of them. His family.

Hermione shifted slightly in the bed, propping herself up against the mass of pillows. What a beautiful picture Lucius made, framed against the window with his daughter. Her heart beat with so much love for them both.

It hadn’t been a year since she had returned to Hogwarts, the decision that had been so difficult to make. She smiled, the first time she had attended the famous school for witchcraft and wizardry she would not have imagined the twists and turns her life would have taken. But returning for a second time to finish her exams. Well the twists and turn her life had taken this time around had surpassed anything even she could have imagined. Marrying Lucius Malfoy, having his child and not to mention having Draco Malfoy as her stepson. No one would believe that, if she found it hard to believe, but she wouldn’t change it for the world.

Lucius realised his wife was awake and still cradling their daughter her moved to the bed, gently settling himself and the baby next to Hermione. She snuggled up closely to him and Lucius put his free arm around her, holding them both close, with equal love and gentleness.

Hermione dropped a feather light kiss on the very blonde head of the sleeping tot, before raising her lips to her husband, and brushing them against his. 

The Brave Little Gryffindor was so glad she’d had the courage to wake this particular “dragon”. The Sexy Slytherin who was now her husband, the father of her child and the centre of her world.

 


	35. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The very brief epilogue to the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok people this is really it the last little snippet of the story. I hope you have enjoyed my little very OCC story, which was a nice diversion for me. Merry Christmas

It was a very odd sensation being back on Platform 9¾ especially with Draco and not actually boarding the Hogwarts Express herself, but Hermione Malfoy savoured both the feeling and the atmosphere.

The narrow platform was of course crowded with a mass of excited pupils and an array of parents, old hands and those anxious first timers. She and Lucius amongst them. Of course they were both former students, but it didn’t ease the pain of seeing their eldest daughter off to school for the first time.  Wondering whether she would be sorted into Gryffindor or Slytherin.  Draco had taken great pleasure in reminding his father, that technically his daughter had already in fact been in Gryffindor. Draco had winked at his adored half-sister, who had already confided to Draco, she hoped it was neither, not wanting to upset either of her parents. To which Draco had promptly said if she came home a Hufflepuff he would disown her, not that that was likely to happen, the bond between the two was unbreakable.

 

The tall slender blonde, stood between her proud father and quite possibly prouder older brother. Her mass of wild wavy blonde hair was neatly tethered by a rather familiar strand of green silk. It had been carefully tied by her mother when she had brushed the unruly mane before leaving Malfoy Manor and equally carefully charmed by her father.  Adelphia, still affectionately known as Biro to her parents, fierce blue grey eyes sparkled lovingly at Hermione, who was desperately tried to hold onto her twin brother and sister. Draco took pity on his step mother, hugging Adel, he scooped up his lively three year old half-brother. A miniature version of himself little Alexander Malfoy wriggled and squealed with laughter in Draco’s arms, desperately wanting to get on the big “puff puff.”

“One day” Draco promised him.

 Lucius followed suit, hugging his older daughter tightly and clearly trying to hang onto his aristocratic stiff upper lip, he grabbed hold of his youngest. Swinging a delighted Alexis up onto his hip with practised ease. She wrapped her small chubby arms around her father, like her sister she was every inch Daddy’s girl. When it came to her two daughters, Hermione was fighting a losing battle, not that she minded in the least, no one knew better that she did how easy it was to fall under that, non-magical spell of the Malfoy Men.

As she hugged and kissed her daughter goodbye, Hermione spotted some other familiar faces on the platform, Harry and Ginny. Teddy was returning to Hogwarts and of course they were both there to see him off.  They made their way across the crowded platform, it had been a long hard road and it wasn’t quite the same as it once was, but Hermione and Harry were friends once more. With it had come an odd, but strangely easy friendship between the Malfoy’s, the Potter’s and even the Weasley’s. Hermione was utterly convinced, although he would never admit it, that it was entirely down to Arthur Weasley. 

Adel seemed a little relieved to see the familiar face of Teddy, his friendly presence clearly easing the thought of leaving her family behind. 

Lucius hugged Hermione with his free hand as they watched their daughter board the train, her three siblings waving frantically. Amidst a rush of white steam, the Hogwarts Express once again departed Platform 9¾ bound for the famous school of Witchcraft & Wizardry.


End file.
